


(i know) you're out there somewhere waiting

by notavodkashot



Series: watch as our fire rages, our hearts are never tame [4]
Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: An astounding amount of dragons, And corresponding worldbuilding surrounding them, Character Study, Gen, Growing Up, People wanted to know what's Raihan's deal in Fires, Personal Growth, all the feels, also feels, so here you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notavodkashot/pseuds/notavodkashot
Summary: All Raihan ever wanted was to be truly strong.
Series: watch as our fire rages, our hearts are never tame [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660219
Comments: 54
Kudos: 119





	1. we fight to stay bright

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter said they wanted to know what was the deal with Fires!Raihan before the next chapter of Leon's fic so.
> 
> HERE WE ARE.

The last thing Raihan’s mom said to him, before she fell asleep for good, was that he had to be strong. 

She didn’t… die, or anything, not right away. She just fell asleep, boneless like he did after a whole day playing tag with the neighborhood kids, like she was very, very tired and needed her rest. At first, he hadn’t cared. She was just asleep! That meant she’d wake up, eventually. Maybe not in one day, or one week, but… eventually. Sleep wasn’t _forever_. Mrs. Fairweather told him he had to move into her house, after his mom fell asleep, and it made sense to him. After all, his mom wasn’t in their house anymore, she’d fallen asleep in the big room at the hospital, and Raihan didn’t like the house, without her there. It was lonely and scary. Mr. Fairweather’s house was much nicer, by comparison, and she liked to finger his hair and praise him for being good. And for a while, it was okay. Mr. Fairweather took him to visit his mom, every other day, and he painted her pictures or brought her flowers, to put in her room, so that when she woke up, she’d see them and feel better. 

But the days kept piling on, one on top of the other, smushed together into weeks and then squished further into months, and one day Raihan found himself sitting at the table, birthday cake with five candles neatly arranged on top, and a very ugly feeling clawed its way up his throat, filling up his eyes with tears and his mouth with a sour, unbearable taste. It’d been his birthday, last time his mom had been home: she’d made him pie – she hated cake – and they sang a song and she tickled him until he cried for mercy. The next morning she’d tripped on the carpet in her room, and after she went to the doctor to look at the bump on her head, she’d never come home. 

It was a lovely cake that Mrs. Fairweather had bought, it had the crisp, straight lines in the frosting that you just couldn’t do, when you baked it at home. It had his name and his candles and it was _lovely_. He still cried, anyway, bawling and sobbing, because he wanted _pie_ and his _mom_ and to go _home_. 

“It’s okay,” Mrs. Fairweather said, pulling him into her arms, nails scratching soothingly at the nape of his neck, even though it really wasn’t. “Han, it’ll be okay.” 

Raihan didn’t believe her, but she was nice and he felt bad telling her so. 

* * *

His mom didn’t wake up for his sixth, seventh or eighth birthday, either. 

Still, he went to the hospital, even though the visits spaced out, over the years, from every other day, to every two days, to every three, to once a week. He still bought her things he made – drawings and paintings and little stick crafts – and he still sat at the edge of her bed and held her hand while he told her all about school and Mrs. Fairweather and the other kids who’d come to live with her, because like him, their parents couldn’t look after them. Most of them, he’d whisper so low his voice barely made a sound, were dead, not just asleep. Raihan held her hand and measured the size of his own against hers, the steady growth and the weird, unreasonable fear that if his hands got bigger than hers, something terrible would happen. 

It wasn’t bad, really: Mrs. Fairweather was kind and gentle and soft-spoken. She gave praise often and never really got angry, even when someone made a mess or disobeyed. Raihan liked her, and not just because she had a habit to use him as example, for the other kids. And yeah, some of them were angry about it and made messes, called him names and broke things. But Mrs. Fairweather took it all in stride, always with a hug and a soft smile, and if it worked for her, Raihan started doing the same, to the smaller ones, too. He didn’t have to, but they liked it and they followed him around, and he liked feeling in charge. He liked helping with homework and coming up with the best games. And when it went wrong and things got out of hand, if someone got hurt or things got broken, Raihan was the first one to grin sheepishly and take the blame. He didn’t _have_ to, but he could. He was strong, like that. And Mrs. Fairweather never really punished him too badly for it, really. Sometimes, when she sent him out to sweep the backyard with the big, wiry broom that was almost as long as he was tall, well aware he was going to end up building piles of leaves to jump into, Raihan suspected she _knew_ , and he liked her a little bit more, if only because she didn’t call him out on it. 

For his eighth birthday, Raihan asked to go watch a pokemon battle at the Stadium. The League was not in season, though, so Mrs. Fairweather promised to take him along, in the spring, when Rhys, her youngest daughter, set out to take on the Gym Challenge along with two other of the boys living in the house. Raihan was excited at the prospect and, to sustain his excitement for five months straight, he began reading up on battles as much as he could. He’d like to watch them, but the living room TV was always a hotly contested privilege, and he always felt bad when he won and some of the younger kids who wanted to play videogames or watch something else looked disappointed. Besides, books were a good way to put all that boring schoolwork to some use. What was the point of learning how to summarize chapters and make dumb reference cards, if he couldn’t use it to learn about pokemon battles? What was he supposed to do with all that practice otherwise? His binders were always the neatest and his notes the cleanest, and he liked being thorough and precise because it made Mrs. Fairweather praise him and his teachers cut him some slack when he got carried away playing rough. 

Raihan spent months and months reading about rules and moves and strategies and all sorts of boring things until they _stopped_ being boring, in his head. Sure, on its own, knowing that there was a ten percent accuracy difference between head smash and rock wrecker was not particularly impressive. But it became the difference between winning or losing, if one started to play around with the numbers. 

And it turned out, Raihan was _really good_ at playing with the numbers. 

As the Gym Challenge began, results of all official matches were posted in the large screens in the lobby of Hammerlocke Stadium. Every day, after school, Raihan biked up to the stadium and compared notes with the predictions in his binders. More often than not, he was _right_. The one persistent surprise, however, was one of the Gym Challengers that sort of consistently defied Raihan’s math. It was interesting, but not something Raihan fixated on, considering he was more interested in following Rhys’ progress. One of the other boys had given up sometime after Stow-On-Side, and Raihan didn’t really blame him, considering his predictions required a full team overhaul and more training than they had time for, to finally match the Gym Leader’s overpowered gothitelle. The other boy got frozen solid by Circhester’s Gym Leader and her ruthless lapras, and then utterly obliterated by Spikemuth’s terrifying tyranitar. There wasn’t even video of the Spikemuth fight – there were never video of the Spikemuth fights, and that was what made them so scary, people went in and either won or lost, but no one really got to see how unless they made the trek and saw the battles for themselves – but the final results matched Raihan’s predictions. Rhys managed to make it all the way to Hammerlocke. 

The night before her fight, she came home and they ate pizza and sat in the backyard, meeting her pokemon and playing with them until the sky was dark. Raihan met her gigalith and immediately knew that he wanted one. He asked her questions until she laughed and told him that if he was that desperate to find out, he could go on his own Gym Challenge when he was older. 

Raihan rolled his eyes because… of course he was going to go on the Gym Challenge. What else was he supposed to do? 

Raihan sat between Rhys and Mrs. Fairweather in the Stadium as they watched all the matches for the day scheduled before Rhys’ own. They mostly went the way Raihan’s notebook said they would, all but that kid with the charizard and the annoying habit to dodge his predictions. Raihan watched aegislash one-shot the Gym Leader’s gigantamax duralodon with a single, well-timed close combat and he admitted to himself he was more excited than annoyed that the battle hadn’t fallen in line with what his numbers said should have happened. 

When it was Rhys’ turn, she didn’t fare that well, though. 

“You were so close!” Raihan said, as soon as she came out of the challenger’s waiting room and back into the lobby. “You’ll get her in the rematch!” 

Rhys looked down at him – seriously, why did everyone look down at him? It wasn’t fair, they were all mutants and _tall_ – and then smiled tiredly, reaching a hand to pat his head. 

“I think I’m good, Han,” she laughed, looking exhausted. “I think… I think this is as far as I go.” 

“But you can win,” Raihan insisted, eyes wide, “I _know_ you can.” 

She laughed and pulled him into a hug, rather than answer. 

She did not take on the Gym Leader again. 

* * *

Raihan was rarely the biggest boy around, and thus not always _literally_ the strongest, but he was the most stubborn. Most bullies tended to leave him alone, if nothing else because he always aimed to kick where it hurt the most and he had no shame about biting when scuffles turned into actual fights. He made a point to stand up for anyone who needed help standing up to others, much to Mrs. Fairweather’s chagrin, considering the school sent notes and sometimes asked her to come in. She never really told him not to, though, if nothing else because Raihan didn’t _start_ fights. 

He just happened to be really good at _ending_ them. 

One day, maybe a month after his birthday, he was running errands for the lady that ran the café at the end of the street from Mrs. Fairweather’s house, when he caught sight of a group of kids disappearing into an alley just past the gate into the outskirts of town that lead into Route 6, giggling the tell-tale laugh of doing something they shouldn’t. He didn’t have time to go investigate, never mind the fact he wasn’t supposed to go into the alleyways on his own: he was supposed to deliver food to a few of the café’s regulars that were too sick to go get their own and he’d been told repeatedly he should make sure to deliver the food while still hot. And besides, he was strictly forbidden from crossing any of the big gates that separated Hammerlocke proper, from the outskirts built outside the castle walls. 

He should have turned around and gone on his way, but he _knew_ that laughter – it was never aimed at him, he kicked and bit and Mrs. Fairweather never got angry at him for it, so they’d quickly learned not to try it on him – and it was not the laughter that followed after a good joke. It was cruel and mean and it usually ended with someone, usually one of the small kids that Raihan had self-appointed himself guardian of, crying into his side. 

Raihan licked his lips and turned down the alley, carefully putting down his parcels by the entrance, just to make sure they didn’t get messed up in the – hopefully not, but very likely – upcoming fight. 

He approached quietly, eyes narrowed as he strained his ears to hear the excited whispers as the crowd gathered at the end of the alley. 

“Throw a rock at it,” one of them was saying, “knock it out and you’ll get to capture it.” 

At the very end, pressed against a wall, as a tiny trapinch, snapping its jaws threateningly at the group that had gathered around it. 

“Idiot,” someone else snapped, “you can’t capture a fainted pokemon.” 

“Well, you’re not doing a great job of capturing this one either, smartass!” The first voice snarled, annoyed. “We only have two pokeballs left!” 

“Hey!” Raihan called out, frowning. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“None of your business, kid,” the leader of the gang told him, looking amused at Raihan’s set jaw. “Now scram, before you get hurt.” 

Raihan was never really the tallest or the biggest or the strongest. 

But boy, he was _always_ the most stubborn. 

He bared his teeth. 

“Yeah? _Make_ me, dumbass.” 

* * *

He didn’t win the fight – of course he didn’t, they were seven and he was one, and they were all bigger and stronger and way meaner than he was – but he hadn’t gone into it for the win. He’d gone into it for a chance to get trapinch out of their hands, before they did it harm. More harm. As the rain started, falling thick and icy and so hard it was almost impossible to see ahead, Raihan ran across the streets of Hammerlocke, body curved forward to shield the whimpering trapinch from the rain. It hurt a lot, both the bruises and the cut on his forehead, where someone had thrown a rock at him as he managed to outmaneuver his opponents and snatch trapinch right under their nose. It hadn’t stopped him, but it had made blood start falling down his face and he realized, after the first surprised yell for him to stop, that he looked pretty bad. If he stopped, because people were worried about him, it might be too late for trapinch. 

He ran past the Pokemon Center outside the gates, and the one at the center of main street, because he knew neither of them were the ones he needed to reach. 

Trapinch, after all, was a baby _dragon_ , and all things dragons had to be dealt with, directly at the Gym. 

So Raihan ran and ran, even as his lungs burned and his feet slipped dangerously on the wet sidewalks, ignoring the rain and the way his body ached. He ran all the way into the Stadium and the League personnel that stopped him at the door, asking questions and sounding threatening. 

“Please,” Raihan wheezed, barely able to hold himself upright, arms curled tightly around the barely moving trapinch, “please, he’s hurt.” 

One of the Gym Trainers approached, disturbed by the commotion, and immediately took over the situation, once they got a good look at Raihan, and more importantly, the trapinch in his care. Raihan followed dutifully towards the Pokemon Center within the Stadium itself, and found himself getting looked after by a reproachful nurse Joy that lectured him on being careful as she patched him up and refused to tell him anything about how trapinch was faring. 

Raihan sat in place like he was told, even though he was vibrating with nervous energy. He was definitely in trouble, he knew. Not just because he’d screwed up his delivery – even after he’d made a fuss about being allowed to take the job, even though Mrs. Fairweather insisted he was too young for it – but because it was now dark outside and the storm wasn’t letting up and he got hurt and _oh_ , oh, he was going to be in astounding amounts of trouble. Even Mrs. Fairweather wasn’t going to just let this slide. 

“Raihan.” 

He practically bounced off the chair at the sound of his name, and then froze when he realized the figure by the doorway was none other than the fabled Hammerlocke Gym Leader. She was every bit as terrifying from up close than from a far, he thought, watching her arch an eyebrow at him expectantly. 

“Ma’am!” He snapped, standing up straight. 

“Your guardian’s in the lobby waiting for you,” she said, and then threw an ultraball at him, that he caught almost on reflex. “Now you and your trapinch get the hell out of my Stadium and don’t come back unless it’s to fight for a badge.” 

Raihan stared, mouth going dry. 

“He wasn’t…” He began, shrinking when she narrowed her eyes at him. “It wasn’t my trapinch.” He blurted out, and then added, almost defensively: “Ma’am.” 

“Well, he is now, kid,” the Gym Leader said, and rolled her eyes at him. “Now _scram_ before that guardian of yours starts beating people up with her ridiculous umbrella.” 

Raihan ducked his head and ran, out the Pokemon Center and down the corridor towards the Lobby, straight into Mrs. Fairweather’s arms. While she fussed about the bandages nurse Joy had put on his forehead and all the bruises on his face and his arms, Raihan stared up at her with wide, wide eyes. 

“She gave me a trapinch, Mrs. Fairweather,” he whispered, clutching the ultraball like it was the most precious thing in the world… which it was. “She said he was mine!” 

Mrs. Fairweather laughed, even as she pressed loud, wet kisses to the side of his face, so Raihan reckoned maybe he wasn’t in that much trouble after all. 

* * *

Trapinch was a lazy, spoiled thing, and Raihan honestly didn’t blame him. 

It wasn’t like he was allowed to battle – that was the one thing Mrs. Fairweather had asked of him, stern and serious, looking at him right in the eye, until he promised and _meant_ it – and honestly, trapinch was more of a baby than anything. Raihan wondered what had happened to his parents or how he’d ended up in that alleyway, but then he supposed that was the kind of thing you never really asked, because the answer always ended up hurting someone. So instead, trapinch rode on Raihan’s shoulders and the hood of the hoodies he started wearing, just for that purpose. He wasn’t as heavy as he should be, not just yet, but Raihan reckoned he’d grow up into its proper size eventually. He’d be strong enough to still carry him, if he started now. In the meantime, trapinch played with the smaller kids and begged for treats for anyone who stood still long enough. He slept in Raihan’s bed, curled up against his belly, and he was warm and solid and somehow an excellent nightmare repellant. 

Raihan loved him more than he’d ever loved anything, except perhaps Mrs. Fairweather and his mom. 

“When you get better,” Raihan told his mom, by the end of each afternoon he spent sitting by her side guiding her hand to pat trapinch’s head, “I’ll show you how strong I’ve really gotten.” 

But his mom didn’t get better. 

She didn’t even get worse, really. Just… one crisp, spring Thursday morning, so early the sky was still dark, Mrs. Fairweather woke him by sitting on the edge of his bed and brushed her fingers across his forehead. Raihan knew, before she even said anything, just by the way her smile was trembling and her eyes were sad. 

He knew. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, and gathered him in her arms as the sobs all rushed up his throat, caught at the back of his tongue, stepping on one another. “Oh, Han, I am so sorry.” 

Raihan cried, and yet somehow couldn’t make a single noise, while he did. 

* * *

The funeral was lonely. 

The weird thing was that there were tons of people there, just… not any he knew. Or remembered, since they all seemed to know who he was. Friends of his mom, they said, from school or work or something. Raihan stood next to Mrs. Fairweather and kept his eyes on the floor as he received condolences from the endless parade of strangers that all insisted had loved his mother dearly, even though he’d never seen them at the hospital, not even once. He kept his hands behind his back, trapinch’s ultraball clenched tight between his fingers, to keep himself from fidgeting. 

Raihan watched as they placed the urn in the same hole in the wall as his dad’s and felt a sort of awkward lack of anything. 

Everything sort of blurred together, after that. Dinner and Mrs. Fairweather’s words, which echoed inside his head like he was underwater, tone soft and kind but utterly meaningless. Raihan found himself going through his daily routine out of sheer inertia, not a single conscious thought required. And since everyone was giving him extra space and taking up on his chores, the really wasn’t much that needed his attention. He found himself sitting in a corner of the couch in the living room, curled around trapinch and staring – not watching – the TV, more often than not. 

“ _I’m waiting for you, so you better come and show me how strong you really are!_ ” 

Raihan found himself blinking at the TV, as the Champion stared intently at the camera and then did his silly pose. Then the ad ended with big letters announcing the upcoming opening ceremony for that year’s Gym Challenge, to be celebrated in Motostoke in a few weeks. 

His mom had asked him to be strong, after all. 

Raihan licked his lips and looked down at trapinch, who nosed the underside of his chin with a little worried noise. Then he looked around the room, but it was empty, because he was _grieving_ and _sad_ and _needed space_. He should have been at school, given the time, but he’d just stayed home and Mrs. Fairweather had not made him go. 

Raihan swallowed hard, and found it was just as easy standing up and letting trapinch slide into his usual perch on his hoodie, before he started walking. One step, then the next. No one stopped him. No one noticed. After all, he left the TV on and the announcer for the Sinnoh league was loud as anything, so they probably didn’t even hear the door close behind him. 

* * *

When he finally made it into the Wild Area, he almost turned back. 

Distantly, somewhere deep below the thick crust of nothingness inside his head, he knew this was a bad idea. He knew. But he still set out anyway, because no one stopped him. It was raining pretty hard, the same kind of ugly storm that reminded Raihan of the day he’d met trapinch: lightning and thunder and mud everywhere. Trapinch didn’t like the rain, and huddled deep into the hoodie, as Raihan pulled the hood over his head, shielding them both. He didn’t know where he was going, really, only that he was going south, so he huddled around trapinch and ran as fast as he could. 

“Shit!” Raihan squawked in surprise, when he tripped and rolled down a slope, before he landed square in front of a very cranky looking toxel. 

Then Raihan remembered what toxel’s moveset looked like, and realized that if it only knew nuzzle as an attacking move, trapinch could totally take it down, despite the clear level difference. It was just gonna take a while. 

“C’mon,” Raihan said, nudging trapinch until it landed before the toxel and yawned lazily, “I know you can do this!” 

Despite his luck – the toxel used growl and nuzzle, and nothing else – Raihan dreaded the fight. It was long and obnoxious and he could tell trapinch was in a hurry to finish it too, each bite getting more and more aggressive until they managed to knock the toxel out. If Raihan had thought this through, he might have stopped by the PokeMart and bought himself some pokeballs. 

But obviously he hadn’t, so after nearly twenty minutes of dreadfulness, he didn’t even get to catch a pokemon to show for it. 

The battle took so long the stupid thunderstorm stopped and everything, sun now shining harshly across the plains. 

Raihan picked up trapinch – unscathed and rather pumped up from his first real battle – and started walking again. The sun was scorching, drying his clothes in the process even as he slowed down because each step became more and more of a chore. It was probably why he stepped on a bit of loose gravel, lost his footing and found himself rolling down a hill with a yelp. 

“Uh,” Raihan said, as he found himself crashing into someone’s campsite, coming to a stop a few feet away from their firepit. “Hi.” 

The guy sitting by the fire had weird white and black hair and a very squinty look to him, probably because he was squinting at Raihan pretty hard. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice surprisingly soft. 

Raihan licked his lips and sat up, laughing for no reason he could really explain, only that he was tired and hurt and it almost got through the fog. He almost _felt_ it. 

“We’re good!” He said, tugging trapinch into his lap, where it began to chew on one of his sleeves, not really aiming to tear it but almost like… a nervous thing. “We won our battle and all.” 

“Okay,” the boy replied, though he didn’t sound convinced. “Are you alone? Where are you going?” 

“To Motostoke!” Raihan said, and for the first time he realized that was what he was aiming to do, in the first place. At least in theory. “I’m gonna be champion.” 

“Without supplies?” The boy asked, frown deepening more and more with each passing moment. 

Raihan swallowed hard and then offered his best proud smile. 

“Supplies are for losers _,_ ” he said, grinning with euphoria he couldn’t even begin to describe, “I’m gonna be champion!” 

“You’re going to be grimmsnarl bait,” the boy snorted, and then shoved a bowl of stew into Raihan’s hands. “Eat.” 

Later, while he was refilling Raihan’s bowl and scolding him for setting out on his own, he introduced himself as Piers. He was older and stronger and a bit of a dork, really, but Raihan reckoned he was alright. He didn’t even say anything, when Raihan clung to him at night, or when his eyes got suspiciously teary, sometimes. 

He was alright. 

* * *

Piers’ mom was terrifying. 

Then again, he’d already known that, back when all he’d known about her was that she was Spikemuth Gym Leader. Her hair was the same two-tone color as Piers’, but where Piers was quiet and generally broody, preferring to sit back and watch Raihan battle things – unless he decided Raihan wasn’t strong enough to fight whatever he’d chosen to fight, then he got all annoying and manhandling-happy – his mom was… not. She had a loud, chortling laugh, more a cackle than anything else and she liked to smile with her teeth, almost like a snarl. She reminded Raihan keenly of her signature pokemon: her massive, feral-looking, ridiculously overpowered tyranitar. The weirdest thing, though, as far as Raihan was concerned, was the fact he _wasn’t_ terrified of her. He should be, of course, everyone knew that people from Spikemuth were shifty and mean and _not good_ , and Spikemuth’s Gym Leader was _that_ but more. But she wasn’t scary, even from up close. 

Maybe it was because he’d befriended Piers first, without knowing who he was, and she was toning down the scary because of that. Or maybe she really wasn’t that bad and people were just dumb. But Raihan found himself very at ease in her presence, delighted by the way she threw jokes at him and didn’t spare him her wit or treat him like a little baby. She was loud and rough, but that in itself was nice, somehow. Like she didn’t think Raihan was too fragile, to take the ribbing. Like Raihan didn’t need to be treated like cracked glass, somehow. 

“That Fairweather lady seems nice,” Piers said, as they settled into their hotel room in Motostoke, sitting on his bed and giving Raihan a calculating look. 

“Mrs. Fairweather,” Raihan corrected, on reflex, because of course she was nice and no one should disrespect her, ever. “Yeah. She is.” 

“She’s not your mom, though,” Piers added, slowly, almost tentatively. 

Raihan licked his lips, weighed his options and gave up pretending he _wasn’t_ going to crawl into Piers’ bed in the middle of the night. 

“No,” he said, going to sit next to Piers, legs pulled up to his chest and toes resting at the edge of the bed. “She’s not.” 

This was it, he thought, the moment he’d been dreading. The moment Piers asked and he _had_ to answer and put it into words, somehow. He didn’t realize he’d been bracing for it since they first met, if only because Piers never really asked about it before. He just didn’t talk about himself much, either. 

“I’ve got a sister,” Piers said, looking up at the ceiling, “tiny thing, name’s Marnie.” He gave Raihan a side look from the corner of his eye, lips twitching into that quiet smile of his that shouldn’t be reassuring but _always was_. “I’ll introduce you, when we make it to Spikemuth.” 

Raihan grinned, unbearably wet around the edges, but Piers never said anything about that. 

“I’d like that a lot.” 

* * *

As they crossed route 3, Piers caught a stunky – and promptly named him Aaron – but Raihan didn’t really see anything he wanted to add to his team. At least not until they got through the mine exhibit. Piers was skeptical of him catching a roggenrola and not a rolycoly, considering Turffield specialized in grass types. Not to mention Hulbury right after. 

But Raihan had a plan. 

Granted, it was a plan that wasn’t as exciting as Piers’ battles, since he focused so much on raw attack power to crush his way through the Gyms, but _his_ plan worked: after all, it didn’t matter how super effective a hit would be, if the hit never connected in the first place. He got his badges and a long suffering, but ultimately amused look from the Turffield Gym Leader, along with a loud cackle from Hulbury’s. By the time they made it back to Motostoke, both trapinch and roggenrola were high level enough that he didn’t need to stall with accuracy lowering moves to get through his opponents. Plus, rock was super effective against fire, and he _exploited_ the hell out of that. 

“You have a very interesting battling style, young man,” Motostoke’s Gym Leader told him, the day after he’d given Piers and him their badges, and he was now ready to see them off towards Hammerlock and the second leg of the Gym Challenge. “Are you looking to specialize on a type?” 

“Maybe! I don’t know yet,” Raihan admitted sheepishly, because it was the truth. “I’ve wanted a gigalith since I saw my… friend’s and trapinch is… well, he’s my partner!” 

“Ha, I see,” the man said, and though he looked very stern, his eyes, Raihan couldn’t help but notice, were awfully kind. “I suppose I shall be seeing you, then, in this year’s Championship Cup.” 

Raihan grinned with all his teeth. 

“Oh, you can bet you will!” He promised, and then squawked indignantly when Piers grabbed his head and forced it forward into a bow. 

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Piers deadpanned, offering a less severe bow of his own. “We’ll be on our way.” 

“Hey-“ Raihan began to protest, but it trailed off when Piers unceremoniously dragged him away, not looking back at the waving Gym Leaders that were there to see them off. 

“Less chatting, more walking,” Piers said, shaking his head, “we’re still a long way from the Championship Cup.” 

“You are _the worst_ killjoy I’ve ever met,” Raihan whined dramatically, but did in fact continue walking down the massive staircase that connected Motostoke with the Wild Area. “I hope you know.” 

Piers, because he was, in fact, the absolute worst, grinned sideways at him. 

“I know.” 

* * *

“Please take the everstone away,” Piers said plaintively, watching Raihan scrub roggenrola’s body with a hard-bristled brush, a process the little guy seemed to enjoy tremendously. “He should have evolved _two Gyms ago_.” 

Raihan snorted. 

“It’s his favorite rock,” he explained, because it was, and in fact, roggenrola had been holding the thing, tucked into the depths of its ear, since Raihan first caught him. “I can’t take his favorite rock away, that’d be mean.” Roggenrola made a loud noise of agreement, and then melted under Raihan’s hands again, clearly enjoying the grooming. “Besides, people underestimate unevolved pokemon. It’s all part of the plan.” 

“I hate your plans,” Piers muttered plaintively, fingers absently scratching his newly caught toxtricity’s mane of spiky, electrified fur. “I specially hate that they work, too.” 

“You sure as hell didn’t hate it when they carried you through Ballonlea,” Raihan singsang, eyes dancing with mischief as he dodged a rag being thrown at his head. “Super effective doesn’t matter, if it never hits.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Piers sighed, “we should stick around the Wild Area for a few days.” He gave Raihan a narrowed eyed look. “Train, maybe catch some more pokemon for our teams.” 

“My team is perfect the way it is,” Raihan interrupted, and both roggenrola and trapinch piped up with loud agreements on the fact. 

“You have two unevolved pokemon and I promise you, Raihan, my Ma is going to chew you up and spit you out without even flinching,” Piers deadpanned, looking unconvinced. “Hell, you gotta make it through Circhester first, and I heard she ain’t a walk in the park, either.” He was giving trapinch a significant look. 

“ _Whatever_ ,” Raihan snorted, “I never say no to training anyway.” 

Which was how they ended up staying a whole week around the Dust Bowl, enduring the weather more than anything. Raihan caught a shuckle, mostly because it was tiny, furious and severely under-leveled. The little guy’s perpetual _fight me_ attitude was endearing if nothing else, though he was probably not going to level up fast enough to really pull his own weight in time for the Championship Cup. 

Raihan also caught a ferrothorn with a big bone to pick against his newly evolved vibrava, though he had to walk all the way back to Hammerlocke – cranky ferrothorn in tow – to get more pokeballs to _actually_ catch it, since he’d run out by the time she decided to attach herself to his party, after the third time it ambushed him and got defeated. 

Piers kept being insufferable about it, which was definitely a plus. 

* * *

In preparation for Spikemuth’s Gym and all the horrors he knew were waiting for him there, Raihan taught roggenrola explosion. 

It was a tactical decision, considering his team was pretty small – shuckle still hadn’t seen a single league fight yet, because Raihan felt bad registering him for battle when he was guaranteed to not survive a single round – and the fact roggenrola seemed on board with the idea. 

There was just one tiny problem. 

Upon learning the move, roggenrola began exploding whenever he was excited. And considering how much Raihan pampered him and cheered on him during training… yeah, roggenrola exploded _a lot_. 

“You’re an idiot,” Piers snorted, and threw Raihan a pokeball. “Here you go.” 

Raihan coughed a bit of smoke – point blank roggenrola explosion wasn’t as devastating as it could be, at least not without a few curses to power it up, though it did leave him stunned for a bit – and finally released the pokemon curiously. 

A tiny wooper formed out of light, waving the little branch-like growths around its face and smiling brightly up at him. 

“Oooh,” Raihan said, catching on, “wow, thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me,” Piers snorted, as wooper nudged the fainted roggenrola with a foot, “ _stop exploding all the time._ ” 

“D’uh, it’s not that bad!” Raihan snorted, clicking his tongue against his teeth. 

Piers buried his face into his hands when, as if to contradict the point, one of his front teeth fell right off. 

“Shit.” 

* * *

Raihan laid back on Piers’ bed, in his actual room, and blinked at the fact there were little gem-like stickers on the ceiling that glowed in the dark, like tiny sableye eyes. Besides that, there wasn’t much to say about it, except that it was pretty big, and unlike Raihan, Piers didn’t have to share with anyone. Not even his sister, who was every bit as precious as Raihan had been led to believe. It seemed a bit lonely, in Raihan’s opinion, but he kept it to himself because Piers was prickly about everything, but mostly his home. 

“Your Ma,” Raihan said, staring at the ceiling and pointedly not looking at Piers in the eye, “is pretty freakin’ scary.” 

“Yup,” Piers agreed, tucking his monster of an obstagoon into a frankly hilariously small bed, which it apparently had used back when it was still a zigzagoon. 

Raihan didn’t have much high ground on that matter, considering ferrothorn, vibrava, shuckle and roggenrola were all tucked out _outside_ , sprawled in one of the yards behind the Gym and snoring away their cares. 

“You could win,” Raihan said, as Piers slid into bed next to him, carefully not looking at him in the eye. “In a rematch. You could win, if you switched the strategy a bit. You’re strong enough.” 

“Maybe,” Piers said, and his voice sounded just like Rhys’, “but I think… I think this is as far as I’ll go.” 

Why, Raihan wanted to ask, but didn’t, just like he hadn’t asked Rhys, in the lobby of Hammerlocke Stadium. Something deep inside him knew the answer would be something he didn’t want to hear. 

“It’s been fun,” Raihan whispered, rolling onto his side to stare at the older boy in the eye, “traveling with you.” He licked his lips. “Thanks… thanks for not throwing me out.” 

Piers stared at him, and then smiled. Just a little. 

“I’m forfeiting the Gym Challenge,” he said, like it was no big deal, “not our trip. I promised Mrs. Fairweather I was going to watch your back, no matter how far you went, after all.” 

“You’re an asshole,” Raihan hiccupped out, choking on a laugh, and gave into the temptation to hug the big git for his trouble. 

“Yup,” Piers agreed, like it was nothing, and then kept on saying nothing, when Raihan didn’t let go of him. 

It was terrible, how nice that was. 

* * *

“Thought I’d sent you packing, kid,” Delilah, Hammerlocke’s Gym Leader, said, at the start of their rematch, “tail between your legs and all.” 

Raihan clenched his hands and set his jaw. 

“No, Ma’am,” he said, staring at her right in the eye. “I don’t give up.” 

“Good!” She laughed, throwing out her massive kommo-o, “true dragon trainers don’t.” 

It was a close fight. It was the closest fight in Raihan’s _life_. He opened with ferrothorn, to set up spikes and slow down whatever came after the kommo-o… and to try its best to get through the kommo-o. Sure, ferrothorn could tank most of the dragon attacks, but a single fire attack – and oh, dragons were notorious for using fire attacks – and she was going down. Which she did, but at least she managed to take kommo-o down with her. Roggenrola managed to barely get through noivern with curse, iron defense and stone edge. Raihan commanded a powered-up explosion to try and get rid of drampa, but it wasn’t enough. Vibrava definitely out sped drampa, but whether a single dragon breath would be enough to take it down was within range of failure. 

“Drampa cannot continue to battle!” The referee announced, as the smoke cleared. 

Raihan let out a shriek of delight as the bonus experience from that battle was enough to push vibrava into evolving, and felt the screaming euphoria of the stadium bubbling like gas inside his veins as his new flygon landed on the pit before him, claws outstretched and ready to fight the last round. 

“Good!” Delilah yelled at him, her own teeth bared, as her gigantamax duralodon roared behind her, stretching out impossibly huge like the looming towers of Hammerlocke itself. “Very good! Show me how sharp are those claws, little drake.” 

It took one move, but it had to be _the right_ move. Not dragon claw, as Delilah’s taunt implied, but the one that hit the hardest and got through duralodon’s ridiculous defenses. 

“Flygon, use earthquake!” 

Raihan stood in dumbstruck silence as duralodon fell and the Stadium erupted in shrieking delight, and even as the referee announced his win, he didn’t know what to do. Then flygon pluck him up clear off the ground and threw him in the air so he landed on his back, and took him around the stadium on a literal victory lap. 

“Train hard, little drake,” Delilah told him, as she handed over the badge, “next time we meet in the field, I won’t go easy on you.” 

* * *

In the Championship Cup, Delilah kept her word. 

Despite his training and all the time he spent working his team hard, Raihan was blown away by the power of her hydreigon, which steamrolled his team handily. But, even though the defeat had been pretty crushing – and it _was_ crushing, it put in stark contrast the difference in skill and power between them – Raihan was not sad or bitter or even angry. He felt humbled, to the marrow of his bones, but also determined. He’d just been shown a level of strength he’d never really _understood_ before. It was the difference between reading about it, and actually feeling it, in the deepest corners of his heart. 

And more importantly, it was a level of strength he was determined to reach for himself. 

He sat in the stands with Piers as Delilah and Piers’ Ma faced each other in the finals, a fight proclaimed to be a mythical clash of Galar’s two most ancient, most renowned dynasties. 

“It’s an advertising crock of shit,” Piers insisted, annoyingly unimpressed by the hype around the battle. “The Royal family is technically older than either of ours, though Delilah is kinda related to them, I guess. Like… sixteen times removed or something.” 

“How are you so smart?” Raihan despaired, “and so _stupid_ at the same time?” 

“Shut up, Raihan,” Piers laughed, lips twitching into a smirk, “your fanboy is showing.” 

Piers’ Ma took the win, in the end, because her tyranitar was _just that broken_ , in Raihan’s opinion. He’d have to take that on, next year, and he couldn’t wait to start strategizing about it. Despite Piers’ flippant insistence to pretend he didn’t care about the tournament at all, he leaned in just as much as Raihan did, when the Champion entered the field and prepared to face his Ma. 

Raihan was weirdly disappointed to realize he was so small, barely two years older than him but not much taller. But whatever he lacked in size, he made up for it in skill. Having just witnessed the ridiculously overwhelming power of the Spikemuth Gym Leader fighting seriously, Raihan was stuck to his seat, vibrating in place as the Champion skillfully took on her, head on. Every move was calculated and precise, tanking damage or sacrificing an inch for the sake of taking a mile in the long run. It was the sort of elegant, thoughtful battling that Raihan dreamed of mastering: absolute confidence in his team to carry out his designs and the blind trust they had in him, to shoulder damage as required. 

It was the most amazing battle Raihan had ever seen. 

* * *

Raihan promised to call and visit, clinging to Piers with a feral hug when he and his Ma dropped him off back home. 

“No more running away,” Piers’ Ma said, one eyebrow arched as she tapped her fingers on his forehead meaningfully. “But you’re welcome to Spikemuth any day, kid, just be sure to get permission first.” 

“I will, Ma’am,” Raihan insisted, clutching his bag – he’d acquired a bag, along the trip, along with supplies and souveniers and mementos of their time together – tight to his chest. “Thank you.” 

It wasn’t until they were out of sight, that the rest of the kids at home descended on him like a cloud of feral yanmegas. Raihan laughed as he was mobbed with questions and demands – to see his pokemon and his badges and his uniform – and realized he no longer thought of Spikemuth or anyone from there as _scary_. Not the visceral way his foster siblings clearly did, asking if he’d _really_ become friends with the evil Spikemuth people. 

“Welcome home, Han,” Mrs. Fairweather said, standing by the doorway and smiling gently down at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Raihan said, staring at his feet, “for running away. It was stupid and irresponsible and mean and I won’t do it again.” 

The crowd of children parted easily for her to approach him. 

“Are you feeling better?” She asked, forever kind, reaching a hand to tilt his face up. 

“Mhm,” Raihan hummed, nodding. He swallowed hard. “Can I go see Mom?” He asked quietly, not looking away. “I wanna tell her how it went.” 

“Would you like me to come along?” Mrs. Fairweather asked, head tilted slightly to the side. 

“That’d be nice,” Raihan agreed, nodding. 

He didn’t tell her he was a _Gym Challenge Winner_ , that she didn’t need to hold his hand to walk down the street, mostly because her grip was gentle and comforting, and probably the only thing keeping Raihan from bursting into dumb, dumb tears. 

* * *

He didn’t get to train much, the rest of summer. There were younger kids to look after and his team had become a permanent fixture in the yard, playing and being spoiled, much like flygon used to be, when he was tiny and still a trapinch. Raihan made sure that roggenrola was never without wooper around, to make sure the explosions were not actually damaging, since both pokemon were very popular with his foster siblings. It made him happy in a way he couldn’t really explain, watching kids fall in love with pokemon the same way he had. They all wanted to go on the Gym Challenge one day, though Raihan made them all promise to wait until they were old enough and to not be dumb like him and run away for it. He had to be responsible, after all, Mrs. Fairweather expected him to be a good role model, and good role models didn’t remind people they ran away or got into fights or were trouble makers. Though he was and he did, and those stories were definitely the crowd pleasers. 

“Han! You’ve got a visitor!” 

Raihan looked up just in time to catch a plastic bag aimed at his head. 

“You start on Monday, after school,” Delilah said, arching an eyebrow at him as he realized the bag contained a Hammerlocke Gym Trainer uniform, with his number on it. She grinned, teeth bared. “If you’re interested.” 

Raihan grinned right back. 

* * *

Delilah – she hated being called Ma’am, which was _deeply_ weird, and went against every fiber of Raihan’s upbringing, but he was nothing if not willing to obey her – was a spectacularly harsh taskmaster. She wasn’t cruel, though, just very blunt. If she didn’t like Raihan’s work, she had no qualms about letting him know it in excruciating and often demoralizing detail. Conversely, though, if he did something right, she was just as blunt about that, and her words lingered for days mostly because Raihan knew for a fact she wasn’t trying to be _nice_. Raihan began to look at his tasks not just as things he had to do, but things he could potentially get praised for, if he did it not just right, but right to Delilah’s standards. It was a bit like a battle, sometimes, thinking around to figure out the right way to solve the puzzle. 

He liked working at the Gym, though. All he did was train hard with his team, fighting against his fellow Gym Trainers and improving in faster paced battles, which were the Gym’s specialty, and run the occasional errand across the sprawling maze that was Hammerlocke Keep. He got paid for it, too, which meant he always had spare change in his pockets, and the kids back home knew it. Raihan didn’t mind digging into said pockets for treats and gifts, mostly because if he _really_ wanted something, he could ask Mrs. Fairweather herself for it, and the way his foster siblings looked at him like a literal god for being able to afford a little bit of junk food on the side was payment enough, really. 

Besides, his fellow Gym Trainers were really nice, giving him tips and suggestions on how to navigate the tasks Delilah set out for him every day. And, barely three months in, he knew himself ridiculously stronger already, than he’d been at the beginning. 

So of course, just as he was getting comfortable in his new routine, something, or rather, someone, had to come and disrupt it. 

“As of today,” Delilah explained, in the all hands on deck meeting for the day, which were supposed to be held in the morning, but were instead held after lunch every day, to accommodate for Raihan’s schedule, “I have accepted an apprentice who will be serving as Gym Trainer in Hammerlocke. You will not afford him any privilege or special treatment he hasn’t earned for himself.” 

Raihan remembered when it’d been his turn, being introduced that way, and taking it as a challenge to make sure everyone knew he’d earned his place. He stared curiously at the redhead standing next to Delilah, who looked to be in his early twenties, at the very least. Maybe older, considering how grumpy he looked. 

Worst of all was the cape, really. 

What kind of arrogant twit wore a cape in this day and age? Raihan resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose at him. 

“I am Lance,” he introduced himself, head tilted back arrogantly, “I am the leader of the Elite Four of the Indigo Plateau, and acting Champion of Kanto and Johto. I am very pleased to join you in serving this ancestral seat of Dragon pokemon.” 

No one challenged Raihan to a battle, when he joined the Gym, mostly because Raihan had already beaten them all, during the Gym Challenge, and that was enough. Raihan looked sideways at his fellow Gym Trainers, who looked somewhat dubiously at Lance’s pomposity. Delilah did not like pomposity, as a rule. She laughed in the face of people who paraded their status or tried to act self-important. Since she had significant rank, not just as a Gym Leader, but as a relation of the Royal Family, she could squash anyone who tried to show off without much trouble. Raihan took one quick look at her face, taking stock of her pursed lips and narrowed eyes, and made his choice. 

“All of that doesn’t matter,” Raihan said, stepping up and ignoring the fact Lance had to look down at him, just because he was so much taller than him. “You’re in Galar, now,” he went on, “you don’t have much to show for yourself _here_ , do you?” 

“If you’re gonna issue a challenge, issue the goddamn challenge, little drake,” Delilah said, over the sound of Lance spluttering. 

“Hammerlocke Gym Trainer Raihan,” Raihan said, staring at Lance in the eye, “challenges you to battle. 3v3, standard Galarian rules.” 

“I humbly accept,” Lance said, eyes narrowed slightly, “thank you for the opportunity to demonstrate my skill.” 

He walked off, presumably towards the pitch, with a ridiculous flip of his cape. 

“Raihan,” Delilah said, as soon as Lance was out of earshot. Raihan looked up at her and blinked when she grinned at him. “Break him in, will you?” 

Raihan grinned right back. 

Well, no holding back allowed, then. 

* * *

“Dragonite, hyper beam!” 

Raihan considered telling Lance that he’d lost already, by using a pokemon not part of the Galarian Pokedex in an official match. But that wouldn’t be fun. And besides, given how much he was underestimating him, he reckoned Delilah would be disappointed in him, if he let him off easy. 

He found himself grinning again, when roggenrola tanked the hit and Lance stared in surprise when he did. Sure, roggenrola didn’t have spectacular special defense, but what level did Lance think he was, to expect an OHKO from an attack that was neither same type as the pokemon using it nor super effective against the pokemon targeted? 

“Roggenrola, use curse!” Raihan called out, as his first turn, watching his pokemon jump in place with a little roll as he activated the buff. And then, since Lance’s pokemon was stuck on the ground, recharging from the hyper beam, he added, “do your thing, little guy!” 

Lance ordered dragonite to dodge the attack, because he thought roggenrola was gonna use an attack that could be dodged in the first place, instead of closing the distance to maximize the effect of the explosion. 

It was a very good explosion. 

“Neither dragonite nor roggenrola can continue to battle,” Delilah pointed out, almost bored, from the sidelines. 

Raihan saw the way Lance’s arm twitched as he recalled his fainted pokemon, clearly angry and embarrassed about the mistake he’d made, and instantly knew he’d win the fight. That was the first thing Delilah had taught him, after all. If you let the fight get you angry, you’ve already lost. 

“C’mon, ferrothorn,” Raihan called out as he released his next pokemon, “let’s finish this.” 

When Lance threw out a gyarados – a _shiny_ gyarados at that – Raihan felt the physical temptation to remind him that just because it _looked_ like a dragon, it didn’t mean it was. 

And in Hammerlocke, that distinction mattered a great deal. 

* * *

“It was wrong of me,” Lance said, later that day, as they sat down to take a break from repairing the pitch, “to underestimate you.” 

Raihan gave him a side look, dropping on the floor next to him and offering him one of the two water bottles in his hands. 

“ _D’uh_.” 

The left side of Lance’s face twitched, clearly annoyed that his pompous apology wasn’t being taken as he’d hoped. Arrogant git. But then he sighed, and cracked a laugh, expression softening in a way Raihan hadn’t really expected him being capable of. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, reaching a hand to ruffle Raihan’s hair, “you don’t have to be a brat about it.” 

Raihan stuck out his tongue at him and ducked out from under his hand. 

“You didn’t have to be a _git_ about it, either,” he said, and then squealed in surprise when Lance laughed and threw a bit of water at him. 

“Oh, a git, am I?” 

Which wasn’t, strictly speaking, terrible, because it was hot out and they had just spent two hours tearing off the damaged turf and replacing it with fresh one, but it was the principle of the whole thing. Of course Raihan couldn’t take that kind of thing just lying down. 

“The _greaterest_ git!” 

It was actually kind of fun, a bit of a water fight that almost convinced Raihan that Lance was sort of okay, after all, but then the shadow formed above them and they got both thoroughly soaked through by what was effectively a surf. From the stands, they saw Delilah and her drampa looking down on them. 

“That turf isn’t going to fix itself,” she drawled at them, looking unamused. “And when you’re done, Raihan, teach him how to reset the obstacle course for the trials.” 

Raihan looked at Lance and then at Delilah, and grinned mischievously. 

“Yes, Ma’am!” 

It was worth the sound Lance made, when they got hit with another surf for his impertinence. 

* * *

Raihan laughed himself hoarse, when Delilah gave Lance a deino as his first dragon to look after, though he was admittedly impressed by Lance’s insistence to keep the cape on, despite the feral ball of bad temper and incessant biting constantly attached to the edge of it. He took to throwing roggenrola at him, whenever he caught Lance slacking off: that was to say, whenever Lance wasn’t busy trying to convince his deino to stop eating his cape. Roggenrola was always happy to be caught in someone’s arms, and whenever roggenrola was happy – and quagsire was not around to help – he exploded. Having been on the receiving end of those excite-booms himself, as Raihan liked to call them, he knew for a fact they weren’t nearly as strong as an actual attack. They left one stunned, not hurt. So he reckoned there was no foul in letting Lance experience them first hand. 

Raihan didn’t really expect to be given a dragon himself, considering he already had flygon – flygon was _the best_ , after all – but a week before school went on break for winter holidays, Raihan came into the Gym to find everyone freaking out and not stopping long enough to explain _why_. Raihan knew better than to get in the way, though, after one quick glimpse of Delilah’s furious face as she stormed the corridors, so he focused on his job for the day – clean up the snow buildup in the rescue enclosure. Most dragons were not particularly fond of snow, and as winter storms came in strong every other night, it was important to stay on top of it. Despite the fact that most of the jobs that required him to stay in the enclosure were basically cleaning, one way or another, Raihan was inordinately proud of himself whenever he got assigned to do them: he was only one of three people who could go into the enclosure on their own, without a safety buddy, because the dragons there _liked_ him enough to accept him coming and going as he pleased. 

He didn’t tell Mrs. Fairweather, though, because that seemed like the kind of thing she’d worry needlessly about. 

“Poachers,” Lance told him as he took off his battered cape, when they crossed paths in the locker room. “Raided a nest in the Lake of Outrage.” 

“Oh,” Raihan replied, sitting down on the bench, and watched as Lance pulled off the singed, torn uniform shirt off with a snort. “Did… did any of the dragons get hurt?” 

Lance thinned his lips, frown dipping his eyebrows as he stared straight into the depths of his locker like it held the answers to the world. Then he shrugged and pulled a clean shirt to slide over his head. 

“We made sure the poachers could do no further harm,” he said, careful to not look at Raihan in the eye. 

Raihan didn’t get a chance to call him out on not answering the question, because Delilah stormed into room, yellow eyes narrowed and all but glowing with sheer rage. 

“You, go home,” she barked, pointing a finger at Lance, and then looked down at Raihan the same way her kommo-o looked down at an opponent before curbstomping them into the dirt. “You, my office. _Now._ ” 

Raihan caught sight of Lance wincing just as he scurried away to comply. Even he knew better than to test Delilah’s temper when she was clearly out for blood. He couldn’t really remember ever seeing her so angry before, either. 

“I have a job for you,” Delilah said, before Raihan was done closing the door to her office. “It’s going to be hard and annoying and long term, but you’ve done something similar before. Are you up for it?” 

Before he’d become a Gym Trainer, Raihan would have said yes without question. He knew better now. 

“If you think I can do it,” he said instead, almost cautious, “then I can do it.” 

Half of Delilah’s mouth pulled into a lopsided smirk, clearly pleased with that answer. 

“I would have preferred to wait a while longer still, before you started on this part of your training,” she said, leaning back on her chair, “but this needs to be done now and… it’s honestly the easiest I can see this going. Here,” she added, and threw an ultraball at him. 

Raihan felt déjà vu crawling up and down his spine as he caught the ball and then tentatively pressed the button to release the pokemon inside. A noibat flopped onto the ground, the tiniest noibat Raihan had ever seen, at that. So small it couldn’t even fly yet, as it stared up at Raihan with terrified tiny eyes and immediately began to cry. Raihan felt his heart break right at the middle. 

“Hey,” he said, folding down onto the floor and slowly reaching out to hold it. “Hey, don’t be scared. Shh.” 

“You’re not _training_ this one,” Delilah explained, as Raihan cradled the still crying baby in his arms. “You’re going to _rear_ it. Your goal is to get it ready for release back into the wild.” 

Raihan swallowed hard. 

“I don’t know how to do that,” he said, because he didn’t. 

Delilah shrugged. 

“That’s exactly what you’re gonna learn, little drake,” she said, and then snorted. “Taking care of little- _er_ drakes.” 

Well, Raihan never backed down for a challenge, and this wasn’t going to be a first. 

* * *

Ever since he joined Hammerlocke, Lance kept getting assigned to the same duties Raihan did. Raihan took this to mean Delilah didn’t really care if he continued to pull pranks and annoy the pompous git, and the fact Lance had learned to loosen up enough to maybe joke back was something Raihan was very proud of. 

The months piled on, and while Lance worked hard and coaxed his deino into a zweilous through a strict training regime that mostly involved throwing them repeatedly at Raihan’s team, Raihan found himself trying his very best to not give _orders_ to his noibat. She wasn’t _his_ , either, strictly speaking. She was meant to be free, one day, and that meant Raihan had to try his best to teach her all the skills she’d need to thrive in the wild: not moves or strategies, but… other stuff. 

It was hard. 

It was _really hard_ , mostly because he had to socialize her enough that seeing humans didn’t send her back into the crying and panicking mess she’d been at the beginning, but not so much that she was _too_ comfortable with them. It was infinitely more complicated and stressful than straight up training her would be, and Raihan was at least grateful to have Lance around, because his struggles to get his irascible beast of a zweilous to listen to him for five minutes was at least a consolation that he wasn’t the only one suffering. Misery loving company, and all that. 

Raihan did what he always did, when he was presented with a problem he didn’t know how to solve: he read about it. Lucky for him, the archives at the Vault and the library at the Stadium had every possible book ever written about dragons, wild and otherwise. There was just one slight hitch with that plan: the books agreed on a ton of things, about _training_ dragons, but when it came to rearing, Raihan couldn’t find two that agreed on pretty much anything. 

“Dragon types have always been some of the most devastatingly powerful pokemon,” Delilah told him, when he brought up this to her, “so they’ve always been seen as _opportunities_. To do battle, to defend something. All is possible, if a dragon stands by your side.” She smiled, head tilted to the side. “Unfortunately, that means that not a lot of people have been willing, over the years, to simply _let them be_. That’s why Hammerlocke took up on that mantle, ages ago, to protect those no one thought needed protecting at all.” 

Raihan found himself coming back to that phrase, _protect those no one thought needed protecting_ , over and over again, after that. 

It sounded like something he could see himself doing, for the rest of his life. 

* * *

Sometimes, Delilah had important Gym Leader things to do, like negotiating with the Macro Cosmo people that wanted to build a power plant beneath Hammerlocke Stadium, or receiving visits from her family, either extended or the specific members of her immediate one, that she didn’t particularly get along with. 

Since she was very much not up for doing that kind of thing, those were the times Delilah decided it was her job as the Gym Leader of the Oldest, Largest Gym in Galar to look after the other Gym Leaders and make sure they were doing alright. This mostly involved her jumping on her hydreigon and flying off into the distance before someone could come and tell her there were Important People looking for her. 

As the person designated to let her know precisely when someone was about to come tell her that, Raihan often got to tag along on those visits. 

There was something deeply comforting in riding flygon’s back and flying in the shadow of Delilah’s hydreigon, exploring Galar in an entirely different way that he’d had, during the Gym Challenge. The reception was very different, too, when they arrived at the various Gyms. Often, Delilah would detour to buy gifts – mostly wine, unless they were heading to Spikemuth, then it was always scotch – and then shoo Raihan upon arrival, telling him to explore and not come back for an hour or three. Raihan enjoyed hanging out with his fellow Gym Trainers, who very often felt obligated to show him around their hometown and sometimes even challenge him to a fight or two. 

On one such trip, as Raihan found himself in charge of entertaining the Circhester Gym Leader’s children, the oldest of whom was eight. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” The boy, Gordie, asked, as he and Raihan watched his sister go about building herself a snow castle. 

“Sure,” Raihan replied, huddled inside the warmth of his hoodie, hands wrapped tight around a cup of hot cocoa. 

“I hate that you’re a Gym Trainer in Hammerlocke now,” he confessed, looking intently at his feet as he kicked a bit of snow until the dark ground beneath was revealed. “You’re going to focus on _dragons_ now.” 

“Oh,” Raihan said, blinking, “is that… is that bad?” He asked, awkwardly unsure of how to react. 

“I just thought your roggenrola was cool,” Gordie said, shrugging. “No one ever thinks rock types are awesome, but you got all the way to the championship with one as part of your team and _kept winning_ with it.” 

“I’m not going to stop using roggenrola just because I’m learning dragons, though,” Raihan pointed out, mostly because roggenrola was a cornerstone of his team and also the first pokemon he’d ever caught, the thought of not using him anymore was too distressing to even consider. Then he smiled. “You really like rock types, huh?” 

“They’re cool,” Gordie insisted and then looked away. 

“They are!” Raihan agreed, and offered a smile. “Maybe you should focus on rock types, when you go on the Gym Challenge.” 

Gordie stared up at him with wide eyes. 

“That’s not allowed,” he said, voice low. 

“Why not?” Raihan asked, blinking. 

“Circhester has always specialized in Ice,” Gordie recited solemnly, giving Raihan a dubious look. “Dark in Spikemuth, Dragon in Hammerlocke, and Ice in Circhester. Since _always_.” 

“So?” Raihan shrugged. “Ballonlea used to be Psychic, _since always_ , but then Leader Opal inherited and she decided to focus on Fairies instead. Same with Stow-On-Side being Ground and Leader Kyle changing it to Psychic.” Gordie opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it, brow furrowed, seemingly unable to actually argue Raihan’s point. Raihan shrugged. “If you inherit, you could totally make Circhester into a Rock focused Gym,” he pointed out, head tilted to the side, “and if you don’t inherit… well, then there’s no reason not to go for Rock types only, either.” 

“My starter is going to be a snom,” Gordie said petulantly, “just like every kid in Circhester, and I’m going to focus on Ice types, just like every kid in Circhester.” 

Raihan looked at him and the pout tugging at his bottom lip, and licked his lips, preparing to do something really stupid. 

“Raihan!” Delilah called from the doorway leading back into the Gym, before he could say anything. “We’re going.” 

“Coming!” Raihan called, grinned down at Gordie, and then winked as he shoved a pokeball into his hands. 

A week later, when Delilah asked why she hadn’t seen his shuckle around the Gym lately, Raihan grinned and shrugged and refused categorically to explain himself. 

* * *

By the time spring came around and the Gym Challenge was announced, Raihan was ready to give it his best. 

He was surprised to find out Lance was staunchly not participating, considering he was looking forward to watching him try to get through Ballonlea with his dignity intact, but Raihan wasn’t really heartbroken about it. He got to hang out with Piers – not like he didn’t visit often and called every week, dutifully, but it was _different_ when they were on their own, camping in the Wild Area – and refine his team – Piers still bitched about it, _relentlessly_ – and face the significantly harder Gym battles as a return contender. 

It wasn’t _easy_ , getting through the Gym Challenge, but he knew what he was getting into. 

The battle against Circhester’s Gym Leader was a lot more brutal than Raihan had been expecting, particularly considering how badly flygon was matched for it, but ferrothorn and roggenrola managed to carry him through it, even getting grudging praise from Leader Melony for his efforts. And after that, Piers’ Ma and Delilah were hard, sure, but not _close_. Not the way his first go had been, where really he’d succeeded by the skin of his teeth and flygon going above and beyond at every turn. Raihan felt his skills were challenged, sure, but also that he was _proving_ that, his skill. Not his luck. 

His skill was still lacking, in the end, as Piers’ Ma was all too happy to demonstrate. 

Raihan wasn’t bitter or angry or disappointed: he tried his best, and his best _still_ wasn’t good enough. That only meant his best could still be better. Stronger. After all, Piers’ Ma faced the Champion in the field, just like the year before, and just like the year before, the Champion prevailed, after another of those beautiful, elegant matches that Raihan wanted desperately to master somehow. Every move mattered, every choice and prediction and _look_. Piers rolled his eyes at him, as they walked back to the hotel and Raihan shamelessly gushed at him about every tiny detail as he tried to memorize everything at once. 

And then, just as they entered the lobby, Raihan realized the Champion was there, standing right in the middle of the reception area, looking around like he didn’t know where to go. 

“Raihan-“ Piers hissed, but too late to stop Raihan from walking up to him, jaw set. 

“Congratulations on your victory!” Raihan said, planting himself in front of the older boy, who was annoyingly just _barely_ taller than him, sans hat. “I look forward to defeating you next year!” 

Golden eyes lit up on the spot and a wide smile tugged at his lips. 

“I was really hoping you’d win against Lydia,” he confessed, reaching out to hold Raihan’s hands and shake them up and down in excitement. “I’ve always wanted to fight your roggenrola, and your flygon is a _monster_.” 

Raihan had a moment of blank incomprehension, having never expected to be personally recognized that way, and then found himself grinning right back, euphoria bubbling up under his skin. 

“Next year, for sure,” he promised, “gonna send you flying, _for sure!_ Hell, I’d fight you right now if you wanted.” 

“I accept,” the Champion said immediately, letting go of Raihan’s hands and reaching out for an ultraball hanging off his belt. “But it has to be quick, or I’ll be late to the press conference, so… 1v1?” 

“You’re on,” Raihan said, voice gone hoarse with bottomless excitement. 

“Oh god,” Piers whimpered in the background, and from the corner of his eye, Raihan saw him bury his face into his hands. 

He didn’t win, of course. He wasn’t strong enough to defeat Piers’ Ma, obviously he wasn’t strong enough to take on the Champion. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he got to battle the Champion, and even if it was rushed and unofficial and just a bit of a scuffle in a hotel lobby, Raihan could _see_ how skilled the other was. How he went from cheerful and friendly to determined and serious in the space of a heartbeat. 

“Next year,” the Champion mouthed at him, after the battle, as he was escorted away by a pair of League employees that gave Raihan not very friendly looks. 

The next Gym Challenge couldn’t come soon enough. 


	2. take part in a world that we create

In the summer, Delilah gave Lance an axew to train, and Raihan a gible to _rehabilitate._

Much like with noibat – who was due to evolve into a noivern any day now, and thus be ready to be released back to the Lake of Outrage – and rearing, Raihan was not particularly knowledgeable about gibles or rehabilitation. All he knew was that the little bite-happy girl had been illegal contraband and since her species was not native to Galar, couldn’t just be released out into the wild. With nowhere else to go, she was destined to become a permanent resident of Hammerlocke’s rescue, and it was now Raihan’s job to help her settle into her new life. 

Or well, what would be her new life, once she was old enough to live in the enclosure full time. 

In the meantime, she liked to hang off Raihan’s left wrist, teeth sharp and painful and _stubborn_. Raihan got used to walking about with her hanging off his hand and to have his hand chewed on, in general. Delilah named her Hubris, and Raihan was almost scared to ask her why. 

Raihan set his jaw and rolled up his sleeves, and then tackled the task with the same stubborn determination he always did. Because he wasn’t the smartest or the strongest or anything remarkable, and he’d never been. But he worked hard, and hard work paid off, every time. When he asked Delilah to give him dragons for his team, to let him train a team to take on the Championship Cup, she’d seemed pleased with the request, but hadn’t actually given him anything. 

Raihan reckoned that meant he wasn’t ready for that yet, and instead focused on doing his best, with the tasks he was assigned, to hopefully prove he was. 

“It’s a lifelong commitment, you understand,” Delilah told him, months later, as they watched noivern fly off into the distance, not looking back, “being a dragon trainer. You can have dragons in your team, but that doesn’t make you a dragon trainer.” 

“Or you can have literally the one dragon in your team and still be a dragon trainer,” Raihan quipped somewhat tauntingly, giving Delilah a side look, “like Lance.” 

Delilah laughed. 

“Something like that, yes,” she said, reaching a hand down to ruffle his hair. “I don’t know if you’re old enough to be sure this is what you want to be, forever.” 

Raihan frowned. 

“Forever’s stupid,” he said, looking up at her with a shrug. “Nothing is forever, not even people.” 

Delilah looked at him in surprise, and then fingered his hair again, softer this time. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she agreed, “but when you make choices, little drake, they have consequences. And sometimes you can’t take those back.” 

Raihan swallowed hard. 

“I just want to get stronger.” He looked away. “I want to become strong, for real.” 

Because he wasn’t, yet, but he could be. He knew he could be. He just needed to work harder, learn more, _be better._

“I’ll ask Mrs. Fairweather,” Delilah said, after a long moment, “if she’d be willing to let you come with Lance and me, to this year’s Annual Dragon Conference.” 

Raihan felt his eyes widened enough he knew they must look like plates. The Annual Dragon Conference was the most important gathering of Dragon-type specialists in the world. Delilah herself had started it, back when she’d first inherited the role of Hammerlocke Gym Leader some twenty years prior, shortly after she created the Dragon Type Association that organized the event. The purpose of both was to allow for inter-region cooperation and to help consolidate all knowledge about dragon pokemon that was floating around in the world. Dragon specialists were rare and often isolated, but very knowledgeable by necessity. Raihan was the only Gym Trainer that had not gone to the conference, the year before, and while he hadn’t been bitter, per se, he had been more than a little jealous when everyone came back with amazing stories of how cool Unova was and the fact _the entire Elite Four_ had dropped by for exhibition matches at the request of their host, the regional dragon Gym Leader, Drayden. 

Raihan gave into the impulse and threw himself at Delilah, clinging to her waist with the same desperation he’d just realized he wanted to go on that trip. 

Delilah laughed. 

“Alright, alright,” she said, fingers in his hair, “you get one hug, little drake, so make it count because it’s never happening again.” 

Raihan knew she meant it, but he didn’t care because she didn’t shake him off, even when he started crying like a baby. 

* * *

Sinnoh was amazing. 

Raihan didn’t even care if he spent most of the trip with a gible furiously chewing at his arm, he soaked in everything eagerly. As someone who followed foreign leagues near religiously, it was a dream come true to meet so many of the powerful trainers he’d only ever seen on TV. The worst-best thing was that they were all curious about him and wanted to talk to him, because apparently Delilah had ‘high hopes’ for him – that was news to Raihan, considering he always felt he was always barely scratching the surface of _acceptable_ as far as Delilah’s standards went – and so he often found himself staring up at the literal legends of his dreams and forced to stutter answers to all their questions. It was terrible and he wanted it to never stop. 

On the third day of the conference, Raihan found himself sitting in the makeshift stands, watching the exhibition matches that sprung up almost naturally in the space marked for them, right in front of the ancient shrine at the heart of the town. 

“So,” Cynthia said, coming to sit next to him. She nodded at the gible absently mouthing Raihan’s wrist. “What happened to her?” 

Cynthia was the niece of their host, the Sinnoh Champion. At sixteen, she was tall and smart and _really pretty_. Raihan had told her so, upon their first meeting, which had flustered her – and made everyone who witnessed it laugh – for some reason. Still, she was nice and she had that glint in her eye that made Raihan excited to see her fight. 

“Contraband,” he explained, lips pursed slightly before he reached down and shushed Hubris’ slight whining by running a finger along the base of her fin. “Sorry, she’s fussy around… well, everyone, really.” 

“It’s okay,” she said, shrugging. “My garchomp was fussy too, when she was little.” 

“You have a garchomp?” Raihan asked, eyes bright. “That’s so _cool_. There aren’t any in Galar, I’ve never seen one.” 

Cynthia looked at him, pensive, for a moment, and then grinned. 

“Would you like to see her in action?” 

Raihan didn’t even get to finish nodding, before she was stomping down towards the arena, walking straight up to her uncle, and issuing a challenge. However, she asked for a doubles fight, rather than singles. Raihan leaned in. He _knew_ doubles were, in fact, a battle format recognized by foreign leagues, but in Galar, the closest one could find was the unofficial brawls where two trainers fought together against two other trainers. _He_ had never fought doubles, not the official way. 

Sinnoh’s Champion sent out a lucario and a salamance, while Cynthia sent out her garchomp and a gardevoir. Her garchomp was every bit as impressive as Raihan had imagined one would be, tall and feral-looking, eagerly awaiting her commands. It made for a surprising companion to the gardevoir, a strange match up in both type and appearance, but Raihan couldn’t help but notice how comfortable both pokemon looked. When the lucario threw out a vicious bullet punch at gardevoir, Raihan realized the Champion was not holding back at all, not even for his favorite niece. However, gardevoir took the hit without flinching, even though Raihan knew she had to be dangerously close to fainting, and then immediately threw out a dazzling gleam that _definitely_ hit hard. Garchomp followed in quick succession with an earthquake, and Raihan flinched at the ruthlessness, expecting gardevoir to faint. But she didn’t, avoiding the hit just as salamance did, and instead watched impassively as the lucario fainted from the combined damage. Salamance threw out a rock tomb against garchomp, which did little damage-wise, but Raihan realized the point was to slow her down instead. 

The Champion was _definitely_ not messing around, because his replacement for lucario was a tyranitar that looked every bit as vicious as the one that guarded Spikemuth’s Gym. Unconsciously, Raihan pulled Hubris close, bracing, as the sandstorm covered the field. 

The salamance used protect, correctly predicting gardevoir’s second dazzling gleam, which Raihan reckoned would have been enough to knock it out. But though it was a super effective hit, it wasn’t nearly enough to stop the tyranitar, and gardevoir went down when it used rock slide as its opening move. Garchomp shrugged off the damage, though, and rather than flinching used earthquake again. Another super effective hit on tyranitar, but it _still_ didn’t go down, even though Raihan reckoned it had been in range, just barely. 

Cynthia sent out a pachirisu. 

The tiny thing looked ridiculous, surrounded on all sides by giant, feral-looking pokemon. Raihan wondered if Cynthia was trying to throw the match after all, and then immediately felt deeply embarrassed by the thought. Didn’t he use that kind of strategy all the time, taking advantage of people who saw his roggenrola and thought it couldn’t _possibly_ be any sort of threat, just because he was small and unevolved? 

As if to shame him further, pachirisu immediately used follow me, causing both salamance and tyranitar to stare at him intently. Tyranitar used rock slide again, nullifying the effect of the follow me, but despite the brutal attack, pachirisu was still standing when the dust settled. 

Then salamance used draco meteor. 

No dragon pokemon naturally learned that move, it always had to be taught. There were maybe sixteen people in the whole world who knew how to teach that move, and it required the pokemon in question to have full, near blind trust in its trainer, considering how draining it was to use. It was the most devastating dragon move in the world, for a reason. 

And Cynthia’s pachirisu tanked it the full brunt of it, sparing her garchomp the guaranteed KO if it had hit her. More than that, the little critter shook itself off after the hit and ate up the berry it was holding, recovering some vitality as it stared up defiantly at the opponent side. The opponent side that garchomp’s own rockslide decimated: tyranitar straight up fainted from the hit, while salamance held on just enough to get knocked out by the residual chip damage, from the very sandstorm that tyranitar had conjured. 

The Champion sent out his last pokemon, a mow rotom. Raihan didn’t really expect it to be enough to win the fight – Cynthia still had the right to use another pokemon, besides the two absolute tanks she had on the field – but he still felt himself drown in excitement as pachirisu and garchomp worked together to knock it out – hyper fang and dragon claw – so fast it couldn’t even get to do anything. 

Raihan wondered, as the audience – they had gathered an audience, during the course of the battle – went wild, what the bubbly, euphoric feeling in the pit of his stomach was. 

“You’re amazing,” Raihan told her, hoarse whisper stuck in his throat as he looked up at her in admiration. 

“I heard you’re not so bad yourself,” Cynthia replied, lips pulled into a teasing smile. “Lance said you beat him on your first fight.” 

Raihan shrugged. 

“It doesn’t count,” he said, laughing, “he was being a git and got himself defeated almost all on his own.” 

“A win is a win,” she said solemnly, “you owe it to your opponent to not humiliate them by dismissing it.” 

“…you’re right,” Raihan admitted, wincing. “Sorry, Ma’am.” 

Cynthia flushed. 

“Don’t call me _Ma’am_ ,” she snapped, clearly embarrassed, “I’m not that old!” 

Raihan blinked up at her and grinned, teasing. 

“Sure thing, Ma’am.” 

* * *

Upon their return to Galar, Delilah gave Raihan a jangmo-o and a noibat to train into his team. Two months later, Lance declared his training in Hammerlocke complete, and left behind one of his dragonairs as a memento. Raihan didn’t miss having him around, until he did, but then he found himself smiling when he caught sight of him on TV, wearing a look clearly inspired by Hammerlocke’s uniform as he presided over the Indigo conference, a month later. 

By the time the Gym Challenge rolled around, Raihan had a hakamo-o and a noivern ready to take on the Gym Leaders. He also had a whole extra foot in height and consequently an entirely brand-new wardrobe to go with it, considering literally none of his old clothes fit him anymore. Piers took it well, really, he only bitched about it a few times, before he got used to tilting his head up if he wanted to speak with Raihan, as opposed to Raihan’s chin. 

This time around, the Gym Challenge wasn’t _easy_ , but it was decidedly not hard either. Raihan found himself admiring the strategy and control of each of the Gym Leaders he faced, the expert way they measured their strength and how they crafted the specific tests he was supposed to conquer during their battle. Sure, he had two years of experience under his belt, by then, defeating them, but he hadn’t had the knowledge, then, than he did now. He hadn’t known how to _see_ the delicate hand guiding each battle. After all, Gym Leaders _were_ supposed to be defeated, it was just a matter of them determining _how_. 

He walked into the Championship Cup humbled and full of respect for all of them, but determined to show his strength. He was ready for them. He’d trained and prepared and strategized. His team was tough and ready to give it their best, to show anyone who cared to look, the true power of dragon pokemon. 

He just hadn’t expected Opal to choose that year to participate in the Championship Cup. 

She hadn’t joined in _twenty years_ , after all. 

Raihan tried, he really did, but he just didn’t _have_ a strategy to deal with the wall of fairies set to no-sell his dragons. And for the first time in his life, he found himself profoundly upset over a defeat. He wasn’t angry at her, for all he felt deeply cheated, in the aftermath of their battle. He was angry at _himself_ , furious by his own arrogance. 

What was the point of all that hard work, of all the training and studying and preparing, if he let himself get so carried away he forgot about literally the greatest weakness of his chosen specialty? 

He was so _stupid_. 

“Next year,” Piers told him, hugging him hard in the locker room and not at all commenting on the redness in Raihan’s eyes, “next year for sure.” 

“Yeah,” Raihan whispered, pulling away and rubbing at his nose, to hide a very undignified sniffle. “Learned my lesson the hard way, I guess.” 

“Raihan.” 

Both him and Piers startled, realizing they were not alone. Opal stood by the doorway, expression solemn as she looked at them with a knowing glint in her eyes. 

“Ma’am,” Raihan replied, straightening. 

“One should always expect the unexpected,” she said, leaning on her cane, “after all, that’s how life keeps itself interesting… a glimmer of pink where you least expect it.” 

Raihan winced, but nodded. 

“I’ve definitely learned that now,” he said, and then laughed, because it was… it was silly not to. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you for an excellent battle,” she replied, eyebrows arched. “Though of course I expect next year’s to be even better.” 

“It’ll be,” Raihan agreed, nodding. 

“Good, good,” she said, looking pleased. “And, should you need help, practicing the best way to handle the… _pinker_ sides of battle, do feel free to drop by for tea some time.” 

Raihan stared a little, and then found himself tilting his head into a short bow, respectfully. 

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am.” 

“Such good manners,” Opal drawled with a little laugh, “if only a bit of that rubbed off on Delilah!” 

Raihan frowned. 

“Leader Delilah has impeccable manners,” he said, unable to resist temptation to defend her. “Ma’am.” 

And he knew it was true… technically. Delilah definitely had them, she just never really chose to use them. 

“Ha, I get the feeling you’d be far more gracious than her,” Opal pointed out, “when asking for a favor.” She chuckled at the look on Raihan’s face, as he tried to navigate how to respond to that. “Oh, never you mind. Off you go, don’t let me hold you any longer. The next match is due to start any moment now.” 

* * *

Another year, another fight between Piers’ Ma and the Champion that Raihan watched from the stands, completely absorbed by the caliber of their skill. Another year of staying up late in their shared hotel room after dinner, discussing each fight and their plans for the year. 

In the morning, however, Raihan woke up to insistent knocking on the door. Piers groaned and pulled a pillow over his head, so Raihan was left to stumble half-asleep to the door. There was a lady wearing League staff uniform that unceremoniously shoved a note into Raihan’s hands. 

“The Champion would like to invite you for breakfast down in the private hall,” she said, sounding vaguely amused by the way Raihan squinted sleepily at the card, turning it around in his hands until he finally deciphered it – _I have an extra free hour after breakfast, battle maybe?_

Raihan looked back into the room, to where Piers had curled into an angry ball under the covers, but most importantly, where the digital clock on the nightstand was proudly announcing it was quarter to seven. 

“Now?” Raihan asked, turning back to her. 

“In fifteen minutes, yes,” she said, lips twitching. 

“I need to take a shower,” Raihan said, looking down at himself and then back up at her. 

“I’ll be right here,” she replied, “waiting for you.” 

“Okay,” Raihan said, and then awkwardly closed the door. 

After the fastest shower of his life, Raihan found himself shaking Piers awake. 

“The hell, Raihan?” Piers snarled, hair mussed up and sticking up every which way. 

“I’m going downstairs,” Raihan explained, “to have breakfast with the Champion.” 

“When I wake up,” Piers snorted, “I’ll give a shit.” 

Then he turned around and hid under the covers again. Raihan choked on a laugh, well aware Piers would strangle him if he made too much noise, and then headed out. As promised, the League lady was standing there and happily led him downstairs and through a few corridors he’d never been, despite this being his third stay in the Rose. Apparently there was an entire wing dedicated to the VIPs, including a large dinning room that was empty but for the one occupied table in the back. 

“Raihan!” The Champion said, all but jumping off his chair. 

“Hi,” Raihan said, waving a bit weakly, before he turned to his escort. “Thank you.” 

She seemed surprised by the gesture, and then grinned, tipping her hat before walking out of the room. 

“I’m really glad you came,” the Champion said, golden eyes bright and expression hopeful as Raihan took a seat opposite of him. “I hope I didn’t wake you up. I just… My eight am meeting cancelled and I was looking forward to our battle-“ 

Raihan remembered, all of a sudden, that promise, and immediately felt infinitely guilty because it clearly meant a lot to the other boy. He had meant it, when he made it, but he was focused on the spirit of it, than… keeping it literally. He’d broken it, regardless. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, wincing, “you must be disappointed.” 

The Champion trailed off, and blinked up at him. 

“What? No!” He waved his hands placatingly. “I’m sorry that you lost, but I was very impressed how well you managed, regardless. Opal is _really strong_.” 

“No kidding,” Raihan muttered, then paused, frowning. “I… uh. I don’t know what to call you.” 

The Champion frowned. 

“My name is Leon,” he said, giving Raihan a dubious look. “I mean, you _have_ to know that.” 

“Of course I knew that!” Raihan found himself flustered, face heating up. “I just… I didn’t want to be overly familiar!” 

“Oh,” Leon said, and then it was his turn to blush. “Sorry.” 

They sat there, in awkward silence, for a moment. 

“No one’s ever asked me that,” Leon said after a moment, “everyone just… goes with Leon. Or Champion. Or Champion Leon.” 

“Well, I’m asking,” Raihan said, leaning in. “What do you like to be called?” 

Leon looked down at the table, expression softening as he smiled absently. 

“My brother calls me Lee,” he said, with the air of one sharing a deep secret. “He’s four,” he added, laughing, “he can’t say Leon.” 

“Lee,” Raihan tried out, tentative, and then grinned when Leon beamed at him. “Lee it is, then.” 

“Is Raihan okay?” Leon asked, head tilted to the side. “Or…” 

“Or?” Raihan shot back, blinking. 

“Rai?” Leon offered, “maybe?” 

Raihan frowned. 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that,” he admitted, considering most people who shortened his name for a nickname, did it at the second syllable. 

“I’m sorry-“ Leon began, looking vaguely mortified, and the look on his face was enough to make Raihan laugh. 

“It’s okay!” He added, grinning. “I guess my rival gets to give me a unique nickname.” 

For a moment there, Leon’s face shifted, just a little, like the ghost of the expression he wore, in the middle of a battle. 

“Can’t be my rival if we haven’t battled for real yet.” 

Raihan licked his lips. 

“I’ll show you a _real_ fight.” 

* * *

Raihan went home to the well-worn routine: looking after his foster siblings and training at the Gym and accompanying Delilah on errands all around Galar and visiting Piers and Marnie every other week. It was hard work, balancing it all, but he couldn’t imagine any piece of it missing. 

“Are you happy, Han?” Mrs. Fairweather asked him, every time she walked in on him poring over this or that book, research notes everywhere. “Truly?” 

Raihan grinned up at her. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, every time, because he was. 

Day in and day out, every day a chance to get a little better, to figure out a better way of doing things. 

He didn’t know how to explain how it felt, battling Leon. It was… it was like watching Cynthia beat her uncle in three turns, or when flygon evolved mid-battle the first time he defeated Delilah in the Gym Challenge. A wonderful, magical feeling spun out of euphoria, kinda like how people spun sugar into cotton candy: thin, fragile strands coming together to make something special. Something _wonderful_. Losing to Leon was different to losing to Piers’ Ma or Delilah or even Opal. Losing to Leon was _weird_ , and Raihan didn’t know how to explain it. He loved their battle, nothing could compare to having an actual battle, fighting with all they had. From start to finish that battle was… the best thing Raihan had ever experienced. The way Leon looked at him, intent and focused, and the way they scrambled for a rhythm, not as fast as the battles in Hammerlocke but also not drawn out either. 

He wasn’t surprised he’d lost. 

He’d gone in expecting to lose, rationally. He still had a long way to go. But losing to Leon _stung_ in a way that Raihan was not used to. It was different from the heartbreak of losing to Opal – his fault, his own arrogance, the same pomposity he’d taunted Lance for – or losing to Delilah or Piers’ Ma in the finals. Losing to Leon stung in a place Raihan hadn’t known he even had, in his heart: it hurt his pride. It felt like a loose tooth, the kind of ache you kept going back to, like flicking his tongue back and forth on the gap in his mouth, well aware he was going to end up with a bloodied smile and get scolded for not leaving it alone. But irresistible, either way. 

He felt like he should _have_ beaten Leon, even though he’d known he wouldn’t. 

He was _obsessed_ with that fight. Every waking moment he spent dissecting it in his head. While he was cleaning the enclosure and resetting traps around the Stadium. While he was eating lunch and listening half-heartedly to his fellow Gym Trainers chat. While he was home, looking after his foster siblings and maybe slipping candy into their hands with the air of doing something secret. While he was flying on flygon’s back, following Delilah to Motostoke or Wyndon or Hulbury or wherever she was going that day. While he was brushing his teeth before going to bed. While he was reading out loud in class, standing at the front of the classroom. While he was playing tag with the neighborhood kids. 

Every. 

Waking. 

Moment. 

He was thinking about it. About the way Leon smiled when he called out an attack, teeth bared and eyes gleaming. About the way he got inside Raihan’s head, predicting his moves and grinning at him when it worked. About the way he didn’t hold back, didn’t try to battle on Raihan’s level, but instead _demanded_ Raihan got on his, pushing and pulling and never giving him an inch he didn’t earn. About the way he threw his arms around Raihan, at the end, and thanked him for an amazing battle. 

It stung, that he’d lost, but not because of the loss itself. It stung because he _knew_ with the visceral certainty he knew right from wrong, that he could have done better. Should have. It bruised his pride in places it’d never been bruised before, and it made him want nothing more than to try again. And again. And again. Until he got it right. 

Raihan realized one day, as he found himself scrubbing the rocks by the large pond in the enclosure, that he didn’t want to beat Leon to become Champion. Becoming Champion, as he’d so often told Piers he was aiming for, during their previous trips, was the wrong thing to focus on. Because while Leon was the longest reigning Champion so far, he’d stop being Champion, one day, when Raihan or someone else beat him. Raihan realized he didn’t want to beat Leon because he was Champion… he wanted to beat the Champion, because Leon was Champion. He just wanted to beat _him_ , the git with the too wide grin and the bright eyes and the ridiculously strong pokemon. 

He went about the rest of his duties – clean up, mostly, sweeping here and there, scrubbing off gunk from the sunbathing platforms and fishing out crap from the pond – with a pensive look on his face. Maybe the problem, he thought, was that he’d been working towards the wrong goal. Maybe that was why he couldn’t get to Leon, even though it felt _so close_. He’d been trying to build a team that could get to the Championship Cup, but really, he should have been focusing on a team that could defeat _Leon_. 

“Well, hello there, you must be Raihan.” 

Raihan blinked, still caught up in the staggering revelation, and then smiled at the woman standing by the safety door, beyond the enclosure. 

“Hi,” he said, waving a hand. “Can I help you?” 

“Well, this is embarrassing,” she said, hands on her hips, “I thought I was here to save you.” 

Raihan blinked, again. 

“What.” 

“Mom said you were alone in the enclosure,” she explained, looking shrewdly at him. “I thought you’d be scared.” 

“Oh,” Raihan laughed. “It’s fine, they like me!” He grinned sheepishly up at her. “I guess that’s why I get to do most of the cleaning, since they don’t mind when I’m in there on my own.” Then he paused. “Ooh, you must be Elia.” 

She flashed him a victory sign. 

“That’s Professor Burnet for you!” She said, winking. “Mom talks a lot about you, little drake.” When Raihan felt his face burn slightly at the comment, she laughed. “Say, I’m in the mood for something nice and sweet, but its been ages since I came home. You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get some good ice cream, would you?” 

Of course Raihan knew the best place to get ice cream in Hammerlocke, and after a quick drop by Delilah’s office to ask for permission to leave early, he was more than happy to show Professor Burnet around. She was very nice, surprisingly so. Not that Raihan expected her to be mean, but… maybe a bit more like her mom. Maybe. But she wasn’t, not really, instead she was a different kind of nice. She asked a lot of questions, about his home and school and the previous Gym Challenges, as well as what he did around the Gym and how comfortable he felt about it. Raihan was more than happy to talk about that, rather proud of all his accomplishments so far. 

“Does this mean you’re coming back?” Raihan asked her, as she insisted on walking him back home because it’d gotten dark out already, never mind that Raihan knew his way around with his eyes closed. “To inherit?” 

She blinked down at him and then laughed. 

“Oh, no,” she said, raising a hand to her mouth, “god, no. I’m not… I’m not Gym Leader material. Neither is my brother, truth be told. Mom knows that.” 

“Oh,” Raihan replied, unsure of what that meant. “Okay.” 

“What, were you hoping I’d save you from Mom’s madness?” She teased, leaning in to poke at his cheek. 

“What! No!” Raihan spluttered. “Delilah is an amazing Gym Leader and it’s an honor to serve Hammerlocke under her guidance! Honest! I just… I know how important inheritance can be.” He added, looking down at his feet. “My best friend is in line to inherit Spikemuth,” he added, as if to explain. “I don’t know who’ll inherit, if you and your brother don’t.” 

Professor Burnet gave him a funny look at that, remaining quiet for a long moment. Raihan shrugged under the scrutiny, figuring he’d overstepped, but then she laughed. 

“Who knows,” she said, and reached a hand to ruffle his hair playfully, “I’m sure the right person will come along in due time, someone who can be trusted to do what’s best for Hammerlocke.” 

Raihan nodded. 

“Yeah!” 

* * *

The Annual Dragon Conference took place in Johto that year, so Clair and Lance served as hosts. 

Since he wasn’t the novelty that year – that privilege went to Drasna’s young apprentice – Raihan got to roam about and enjoy himself a bit more comfortably without all the scrutiny. He found himself attached to Cynthia’s side for the duration, more often than not, following the older girl around as she went about exploring both the Dragon Den and the rest of Blackthorn City. On the second to last day of the conference, Raihan woke up with Cynthia’s hand pressed to his mouth, to keep him quiet, and her eyes glinting mischievously as she nodded towards the door. 

“It’s six in the morning,” Raihan whined, once he managed to sneak-stumble outside. 

“Yeah, but it’s a three-hour flight to Goldenrod,” Cynthia replied, hands on her hips. She grinned as Raihan stared at her. “Unless you don’t want to come along, of course.” 

Raihan looked back at the house where he and Delilah were being hosted, shook his head, and sighed so hard his shoulders slumped. 

“Delilah is gonna kill me,” Raihan said, throwing out flygon’s ultraball out into the yard. “Why are we going to Goldenrod?” 

“Because I’m becoming Champion, this year,” she said, tossing her head back and causing her hair to flair dramatically behind her, “and Goldenrod Department Store is the perfect place to hunt down the right outfit for that.” 

“You’re nuts,” Raihan laughed, watching her send out her togekiss. 

“No,” she retorted, as they took off, “I have an image to _create_ , so I can maintain it.” 

Raihan reckoned it was the one place where Galar had a solid advantage to the other leagues, that their champions – and their Gym Leaders and Gym Trainers and Gym Challengers and _everyone,_ really – had set uniforms. He didn’t have to worry about his image, and neither did most of the people he knew, Gym Leaders or not. But outside Galar, one’s image was as important as one’s skill with pokemon, it seemed. At least given the way Cynthia pursued each floor of the store, after they were done eating breakfast in a little café across the plaza from the towering building. 

“It’s the reason Clair and Lance wear capes,” Cynthia pointed out, when Raihan asked, busy looking through a rack of shirts. “First impressions are important! When you become Gym Leader or Champion, people look at you for guidance. For protection. If you look sloppy or unkept, you undermine those feelings.” 

“Lance wears a cape because he’s a ponce,” Raihan pointed out, one eyebrow arched until she let out the snicker bubbling in the back of her throat. He sighed. “I suppose you’re right, though. It’s… different, back home.” 

“Your league really does control everything, huh,” Cynthia mused, pulling out a nice black shirt out of the rack. “I think I’m gonna go with solid black and if anyone asks, I’ll just say I’m using misdirection, to make people think I’m a dark type user.” 

Raihan snorted. 

“You just wanna look like a super villain,” he pointed out and then laughed when she reached a hand to ruffle his hair in punishment. “It’s okay, your secret’s safe with me.” 

“I know it’s dumb,” she said, after the moment passed, looking away. “I know. I’m strong enough to be Champion, now, I know that. I’ve been training hard and my team is ready. But I don’t want anyone looking at me and thinking I didn’t _earn_ it. That Uncle went easy on me, or that I’m not good enough.” 

“I say you shouldn’t care,” Raihan said, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter what they think. You’re strong! That’s all that matters, right?” 

But Cynthia didn’t take the flippant answer and run away with it. She set her jaw, expression severe. 

“Of course it matters what they think,” she said, head tilted to the side, “if our people have no faith in us, how can we be leaders? It’s fine to not care what people think, when you’re not asking them to put their trust in you. But once you step up? Of course it matters what they think. And maybe you can’t make everyone happy, but you should at least _try_.” She stood up straight, like she did before a match. “I want to be someone Sinnoh is proud to call Champion, someone people trust to keep them safe. I want to be someone new trainers set out to defeat, to become the bar they want to surpass.” 

“I think you’re going to be the greatest Champion Sinnoh has ever had,” Raihan said, eyes bright, “and you can totally look like a super villain while you’re at it.” 

Cynthia laughed. 

“Thanks,” she said, shaking her head. “What about you, though? Aren’t you becoming Galar Champion this year?” 

Raihan shrugged. 

“Well, yeah,” he said, “I’m gonna try.” 

“So?” She asked, head tilted to the side. “What’s your Champion look going to be?” 

“Oh,” he laughed, shrugging again, “I don’t get to choose. The Champion… the Champion has their own uniform and everything. League regulations.” 

“Well, yeah, but… you can still give it your own flair, right?” She grinned. “Gotta make sure you’re memorable.” 

“Maybe a hat?” Raihan guessed, thinking back to Leon and the fact he seemed to be wearing a different hat every time he appeared in public. “Or something.” 

Cynthia smiled. 

“Let’s go look, then!” 

In the end, Raihan ended up getting himself a headband in bright Hammerlocke orange and nudged Cynthia to pick up an Umbreon-inspired headband with floppy ear-like pieces that contrasted nicely with her hair. They had lunch at a cart that served skewers right outside the department store building, and by the time they got back to Blackthorn, the sun was setting in the distance. 

Delilah looked like she wanted to skin Raihan alive and feed him bit by bit to her kommo-o when they landed, though she waited until Cynthia scurried away to speak. 

“I-“ 

“When we get home,” Delilah said, sighing, “I’m buying you a phone, and you will _never_ go anywhere without it again.” Raihan winced, but all she did was ruffle his hair. “Now go out there and kick Lance’s teeth in, he’s getting uppity again and that reflects poorly on us, given his insistence to wear our colors.” 

Raihan grinned. 

“Yes, Ma’am!” 

And then scurried away before she could reply. 

* * *

Another year, another Gym Challenge, another camping trip with Piers. 

Raihan did not ask Piers to take on the Challenge with him, nor did he ask his friend why he consistently refused to try. Raihan was sure Piers was more than strong enough to get through the challenge just fine – Piers was, after all, strong enough to fight _him_ on even ground, no pulling any punches – but it was something he was keenly aware was not his place. Just like it wasn’t his place to ask Rhys why she’d decided to move out of Galar, heading out Johto to take a job at a radio station. Sometimes people made choices and he didn’t understand them, but it wasn’t his place to question them. If he cared about those people, all he could do was be supportive and hope for the best. 

“You’re really serious about Hammerlocke, aren’t you?” 

Raihan looked up from the goomy he was feeding and found Piers staring at him intently, from across the fire pit. They had… had an unfortunate detour into the Lake of Outrage, on their way back to Hammerlocke after Raihan completed the first half of the Gym Challenge with surprising ease. Raihan was sorry Piers had to get involved at all, considering he nearly lost a finger or two, trying to rescue a wild zweilous. 

“What do you mean?” Raihan asked, blinking, and then laughing as goomy started mouthing his fingers, wanting more attention. “Shh, little girl, it’s okay.” 

“All this… the dragon thing,” Piers went on, head tilted to the side. “You’re going to stay in Hammerlocke forever.” 

Raihan shrugged. 

“Nothing is forever,” he said, because that was the one thing he knew for sure, “but for now… yeah. Yeah, I think I will stay, as long as Delilah wants me anyway.” 

Piers gave him a long look, like he wanted to say something else, but instead he sighed and reached out for his guitar. Above them, the stars shone on bright, more beautiful than anything Raihan had ever seen before. 

He knew, better than most, forever didn’t exist, but as he sat there, listening to Piers’ voice, feeling goomy fall asleep in his hands, Raihan felt he understood why someone would want it to be real. 

* * *

Raihan crushed the competition, during the Championship Cup. 

He knew he was stronger and much better prepared, but he still was somewhat surprised to realize he could take down Delilah head on, and that even Piers’ Ma and her terrifying tyranitar weren’t going to stop him. Lydia grinned at him and ruffled his hair after their fight, delighted by his efforts, before she shooed him off to face his final challenge. 

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” Leon whispered, as they waited for the presenter to finish announcing them, standing side by side with Raihan at the entrance of the tunnel leading to the pitch, “since our last battle.” 

Raihan looked down at him – he was taller than him, now – and grinned. 

“That eager to get your ass kicked?” He asked one eyebrow arched. 

But the look Leon gave him was sincere and earnest, and it made Raihan lose the will to rib him entirely. 

“You make me _work_ for it,” Leon admitted, licking his lips, “it’s the most fun I’ve had in _years_.” 

“Then let’s go have fun,” Raihan said, grinning at him, “let’s make this one count, Lee.” 

“Yes!” Leon agreed, “give me the best you’ve got, Rai!” 

* * *

It was a long, brutal fight. 

Raihan was startled by the loud screaming of the audience, slightly unbalanced for a moment, but Leon quickly consumed every inch of his awareness, until the rest of the world beyond the edge of the pitch ceased to exist entirely. Every move counted, every look, every smile. It was just as magical as their last fight had been, _only more_ , because Raihan wasn’t throwing himself blindly at it and just hoping for the best. Raihan had trained his team precisely for this fight. 

He brought in only the very best he had… and it _still_ wasn’t enough. 

“That was _so good_ ,” Leon gushed, in the locker room, away from the cameras and interviews and the screaming crowd in the stands. “Thank you for that amazing battle, Rai.” 

“Next year,” Raihan said, completely caught up in Leon’s euphoria, “it’s not going to be that easy, Lee.” 

“It wasn’t easy _at all_ ,” Leon retorted immediately, reaching out to hold one of Raihan’s hands in his own. “I thought for sure I was going to lose, when you took down aegislash.” He lowered his voice, a hushed whisper full of excitement. “No one’s ever taken out aegislash, since I became Champion, Rai. That was _amazing_.” 

That was how Chairman Rose found them, when he came looking for Leon. Raihan had never met him in person before, though he’d seen him coming into the Stadium often, particularly after construction of the power plant began. He looked… very unthreatening, really. Nice. He smiled benignly at them and shook Raihan’s hand firmly as he introduced himself – like he even needed an introduction in the first place. 

“You should come along,” he said, smiling gently at Raihan, “to the closure banquet. Ordinarily only Gym Leaders and the Champion are invited, of course, but after putting up such a fantastic performance, anyone can tell you’ll go far, young man.” 

“I-“ Raihan began, because he was used to going out with Piers and his Ma for dinner, after the Championship Cup ended, but Leon was looking hopefully at him, golden eyes _huge_ , so he laughed. “Sure, I’d be happy to. Thank you, sir.” 

* * *

When Leon loudly proclaimed them rivals during his speech at the banquet, and all cameras turned to Raihan – who ended up sitting _next to him_ , instead of with Piers and his Ma, or even Delilah – all he could do was wave awkwardly and offer a small smile. His face, in that same stupid expression, ended up plastered all over papers and news reports across Galar, and Raihan did not jump off one of Hammerlocke’s many towers in sheer mortification, only because Mrs. Fairweather had been so proud she’d actually printed out the articles and started a scrapbook about them. 

People _recognized_ him in the street, though. 

Sure, he’d always been well-known around his neighborhood and in the small periphery of the Stadium, but now people actively stopped him and asked if he was the Champion’s Rival. Some of them asked for league cards, even. It was a bit surreal, but it reminded of his conversation with Cynthia, about the value of… his image. It made him a bit self-conscious of not looking his best, when he went out on errands. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, after all. He designed a new league card for himself, one that looked a bit nicer than the sloppy job he’d done back when he’d first set out on the Gym Challenge the very first time and hadn’t really paid much attention to it beyond getting it done. Piers called him pretentious, when he showed him his efforts, but he was grinning as he said it, so Raihan knew he probably didn’t mean it. 

Raihan tried to keep himself focused, away from distractions. He spent a lot of time in the enclosure, even when he didn’t have work to do in it. After all, he had to prepare for his next battle with Leon. There was going to be a next battle, of course, that was a given. He knew for sure now, what his goal was: to defeat Leon, everything else was secondary. He spent a lot of time with Hubris in his lap, sharp teeth chewing reflexively on his wrist, and his eyes fixed on the surface of the pond. He had to unpack the fight, decompress every moment of it and make sense of what had gone wrong. Where had he failed. There weren’t any books he could read, to make sense of this particular puzzle, only his memory – the wonderful, wonderful memory of standing across Leon and watching his own excitement be matched blow for blow by his rival – and his own creativity. 

Just as summer was ending and preparations were starting, as it was Hammerlocke’s turn to host the Annual Dragon Conference, Raihan reached his answer. 

He needed a fire type in his roster. Ideally two, really, but a very strong one could do the job. There was just one tiny problem with that: Raihan had never worked with fire types before, and he knew for a fact they were dangerous if you didn’t know what you were doing. Sure, fire was usually a starter type and millions of people the world over handled fire types just fine, but Raihan was the kind of idiot who read statistics and the associated horror stories that went with the outliers. He wanted to do it _right_. 

So he took a day off from Gym duties and flew flygon south, heading straight to Motostoke. Piers liked to bitch at him, that corviknight taxis were a thing for a reason, but Raihan liked flying. The best was to fly with company, like Delilah or Cynthia, but there was something fun about it, even when he was on his own. When he accompanied Delilah on her visits to other Gyms, she liked to land directly in the field, within the Stadium, as a way to announce her presence. She was the Hammerlocke Gym Leader, of course she was welcome anywhere she pleased… even Ballonlea. But Raihan couldn’t bring himself to do that, more so when he was looking to ask a favor of Motostoke’s Gym Leader, so instead he landed in the Wild Area, at the foot of the long staircase that lead into the city proper. He made his way to the Stadium easily enough and then he was shown to Leader Kabu’s office as soon as he mentioned he was looking for him. Raihan wondered if they thought he was on an errand for Delilah, and then felt stupid because he hadn’t bothered to change out of his Gym Trainer uniform. 

“Raihan,” Kabu said, as he entered the room, “what a surprise to see you, young man.” 

“Hello,” Raihan replied, ducking his head, and feeling a little bit flustered by the warm welcome, “sorry to bother you, sir.” 

“Not a bother at all, I promise,” Kabu said, eyebrows arched in amusement. “What brings you to Motostoke today?” 

“Well,” Raihan began, trying his best not to fidget, “I wanted to ask your help with something.” 

Kabu smiled. 

* * *

“That’s new,” Delilah said, one eyebrow arched as she watched torkoal puff out heart-shaped smoke balls in response to Raihan feeding him. She snorted. “And spoiled.” 

“He gets to be,” Raihan explained, crouching down to pet his head affectionately, “he’s my secret weapon.” He looked up at Delilah, and offered a wink. “He’s gonna grow big and strong and become a real aegislash nightmare.” 

“If you wanted a fire type,” Delilah pointed out, one eyebrow arched, “there’s a turtonator in the last clutch that hatched.” 

Raihan startled, staring up at her in surprise. 

“But they’re really rare, I thought that one was slanted for rearing and release.” 

Delilah shrugged. 

“Keep it,” she said, “just make sure to socialize it with the rest of the breeding cluster, just in case.” 

Raihan beamed, his anti-Leon team shaping more and more clearly in his mind. 

* * *

Cynthia was Champion, now, and Raihan was not. 

“You don’t seem upset,” she pointed out, as they sat on the stands and watched the battles that were queued up in the Stadium. 

Everyone wanted to give dynamaxing a go, after all, considering it was not available anywhere outside Galar. Rather than a straightforward bracket tournament, it became something of a title defense: the loser stepped down and the winner was challenged by someone else. It was a terrible format, in Raihan’s opinion, for dragon trainers, who were competitive and vicious by nature. He reckoned the entire turf was gonna need replacing, by the time the conference was over. Raihan was not really looking forward to that, but he reckoned being able to watch so many amazing battles in a row was worth it. 

“Nah,” he admitted, shrugging. “I figured out what I want.” 

“And it wasn’t being Champion?” Cynthia guessed, head tilted slightly to the side. 

“Not really,” Raihan said, and then frowned. “Or… not necessarily.” He offered a wry smile. “I want to be strong. Stronger.” 

“Not the strongest?” She teased, lips pulled into a lopsided smile. 

“Nah,” Raihan laughed. “You know how Drake is always talking about how his compass always points to-“ 

“ _True North_ ,” Cynthia chorused with him, in a sign-song mockery of the old master’s storyteller tone. 

They shared a small laugh. 

“Yeah,” Raihan shrugged, eyes half lidded as he watched Delilah’s duralodon gigantamax and tower over Clair’s dragonair with a familiar roar. “I found my north, I think. He makes the rest of the world disappear, when we fight.” 

“Sounds… serious,” Cynthia teased, expression shrewd. “Does he feel the same?” 

“I think so!” Raihan grinned at her, eyes bright. “We’re rivals, now. Officially and all.” 

She gave him a long look he didn’t know how to parse, and then chuckled at a joke she didn’t seem keen on sharing. She arched an eyebrow instead. 

“Say,” she said, in the same tone that invited disaster, “what’s the Lake of Outrage like? I don’t think I’ve ever seen wild dragon nests before.” 

Raihan’s eyes shone. 

“Would you like to go?” But even as he asked, he was already pulling his phone from his pocket, typing Delilah a text message about it. “If we hurry up we might still catch the noivern colony before they head out to hunt for the night!” 

“That sounds fun,” Cynthia grinned, eyes bright. 

It was almost midnight, by the time they were flying back towards Hammerlocke, and Raihan paused, hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, staring at the lights illuminating the towering spires and fortifications of the ancient castle, how it glowed like a beacon right at the heart of Galar itself. He’d spent hours showing Cynthia the location of the various nests, and even introduced her properly to the noivern he’d reared – an introduction that allowed them to approach the colony without getting attacked. But all of that paled in comparison to the view of Hammerlocke in all its ancient glory, and from their vantage point, in the air, it commanded attention with ease. 

“Raihan?” Cynthia asked, as Raihan sat on flygon’s back, one hand on his partner’s back, holding him steady as he stared, unseeing, at the Keep. 

“Next year will be my last chance to become Champion,” Raihan said, licking his lips and refusing to look at her. “Next year is the last time I get to try the Gym Challenge.” He tilted his head back, looking at Cynthia over the corner of his eye as he smiled. “I’ll be Gym Leader, the year after.” 

He was rather proud of himself, by how little his voice trembled when he said it. He’d only had maybe three weeks to stew on it, after Delilah made an offhand comment that had sent him freaking out bad enough he’d taken the day off and gone to hide in Spikemuth for the weekend. Piers had, predictably, failed to show even the tiniest bit of sympathy, considering _he_ had been in line to inherit one of the oldest Gyms in Galar _since he’d been born_. The git. He’d poked Raihan’s side and told him he was ready for the job and then made him babysit his sister for the duration, like the terrible, no good, bad friend he was. 

“Are you scared?” Cynthia asked, sitting comfortably atop her togekiss. 

Raihan laughed. 

“Terrified,” he said, and it felt good to say it, let the words out, an answer, rather than a statement, because every time he’d tried to say it, he’d been reassured before he could. 

“That’s how you know you’re right for the job,” she said, leaning in to grin at him knowingly. “You know what it means, if you fuck it up.” 

Raihan choked on a panicked laugh, at the wording. 

“ _Cynthia_.” 

“What happens if you don’t beat him?” She asked instead, refusing to be embarrassed by the outburst. “On your last chance?” 

“I told you,” Raihan frowned, “I’ll be Gym Leader the year after.” 

“Right, but does that mean you can’t challenge him anymore?” 

Raihan frowned. 

“Well, no, as Gym Leader I have a right to enter the Championship Cup without having to get all the badges.” He supposed she wouldn’t know the ins and outs of Galar’s League. He shrugged. “It’s just… if I beat him, I’d have to forfeit the title. I don’t… being Hammerlocke Gym Leader is way more important.” 

She smiled at him, the same way Delilah did, sometimes, when she gave him a tricky task and he managed to complete it the exact way she meant for him to do it. 

“Why does it matter, though?” She said, tossing her head back, to ruffle her hair behind her, “you don’t care about being Champion anyway.” 

Raihan felt his face burn. 

“Shut up,” he bit out, ducking his head and nudging flygon to start moving again. “Smartass.” 

“I didn’t quite hear that!” Cynthia called out, laughing. 

“Well, good!” Raihan yelled back, “you weren’t supposed to!” 

In the morning, Mrs. Fairweather made him sweep the entire backyard and rake the mountain of orange leaves decorating it, as punishment for breaking curfew. Cynthia kept him company while he carried out his sentence and very emphatically did not help at all, because she was a terrible friend. 

After Piers, Raihan was sort of resigned to that. 

* * *

Winter gave way to spring, as time passed on, inexorable and unstoppable. Raihan grew three inches he didn’t really notice, mostly because he spent most of winter slouched forward, snuggling into a thick coat, and basking in the singular pleasure of drinking hot cocoa right after a blizzard. But once spring came in, he knew there was no going back. His team was ready, or as ready as they’d ever be, he supposed. When he set out for the Gym Challenge, he wasn’t nervous or scared or worried. He knew, by then, exactly how the challenge was going to go. It wasn’t arrogance to know the trip itself was a treat, and the battles at the Gyms the highlights of said treat. No Gym Leader posed a challenge, and that wasn’t a dig at their strength, it was just the simple fact that Raihan was aiming higher, targeting an entirely different level of skill. If the Gym Leaders were a challenge for him, he would know he wasn’t ready yet. 

But he was. 

He hoped he was, at least. 

He made it all the way to Spikemuth, with the most solid team he’d had yet: flygon and roggenrola, of course, but also goodra, kommo-o, noivern and ferrothorn. No opponent so far had managed to knockout more than two of his pokemon, and half the time one of those was just roggenrola literally blowing away the competition. 

He was _ready_. 

“Piers won’t pierce his ears.” 

Raihan looked up from his phone, as he waited in the challenger room for his turn to challenge Piers’ Ma for her badge, and found Marnie standing before him with a morpeko in her arms and the world’s greatest pout tugging at her lips. 

“Oh no,” he said, sliding the phone back into his pocket and reaching out to pluck the surly six-year-old off the ground and sit her on one of his knees, “that’s terrible!” 

“I know!” She said, frowning mightily. “Why does _he_ have to get his ears pierced so I can?” 

“I don’t know, baby girl,” Raihan asked, eyebrows arched as he reached down to scratch under morpeko’s chin. “Is that a rule your Ma made?” 

“It’s a _stupid_ rule,” she said, rolling her eyes with a ferocity that could only come from her mom. “I’m not a _crybaby_ , I can take it.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Raihan said, because he knew better than to contradict the little dictator that ran Piers’ life for him, more often than not. “But piercings are a big commitment! What if you regret it later?” 

Marnie looked up at him, pale blue eyes intent and serious. 

“I _know_ what I want,” she informed him, with enough certainty to move a mountain, if required. 

Raihan sighed and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek for her trouble. 

“Tell you what,” he offered, because he was just as much a sucker for her pout as Piers was, “I’ll ask your Ma if I can take Piers’ place. How about that?” 

Marnie’s eyes widened. 

“You would?” She asked, and then reached out to tug at his ear. “Really?” 

“I mean, sure!” Raihan laughed. “But you might have to hold my hand, baby girl, so I don’t cry.” 

“Of course I will,” she proclaimed magnanimously, “no crybabies allowed.” 

After he collected his badge – nothing remarkable about the fight, really – Piers took them both to a studio somewhere deep in the maze of alleyways and streets that was Spikemuth, to get their ears pierced. If Raihan was asked to find the place again, on his own, he was fairly sure he’d never be able to get it right. So in the interest of not having to return, ever, he decided to have both his ears pierced. But, when they asked him to pick the earrings to go with the brand-new holes they were going to punch in his ears, he realized he had no idea what to choose. Rings seemed like the kind of thing that could get stuck in any number of stupid ways, considering the hazards of working at the Gym and anything sparkly seemed… distracting, maybe. He ended up getting small, round balls in gold that didn’t quite itch as much as he expected them to. Marnie got star-shaped gemstones in Spikemuth pink that Raihan was not qualified to even try and guess the name of. 

And no, she didn’t cry, though she did sink her little nails into Raihan and Piers’ hands, as they each held one during the moment of truth. 

“You’re taking it really well,” Raihan mused, as they setup a tent in route 7, for their last night outdoors before returning to Hammerlocke. “The earring thing, I mean.” 

“’course I am,” Piers said, as he cooked them dinner and gave Raihan a frankly evil look, “Marnie asked permission and got it before doing anything.” He paused significantly. “ _You_ didn’t.” 

Raihan blinked, then winced. 

“Shit.” 

* * *

Mrs. Fairweather had scolded him for it and made him promise not to give the rest of his siblings _ideas_. Raihan laughed and went on to collect his last badge from Delilah. 

“Let’s do something different this time, little drake,” she said, before he registered for battle. “Since it’s the last one.” Raihan looked up at her, not without a certain wariness. She smiled. “I’m not holding back, this time. This isn’t a fight for a badge.” 

Raihan knew what she meant and hated the way his knees were immediately replaced by jelly at the thought. He swallowed hard. 

“I thought the inheritance fight would take place after the Championship,” he whispered, and for the first time he realized he _didn’t_ have to look up at her. 

“The official one, sure,” Delilah laughed, waving a hand dismissingly. Then she leaned in, “but this one’s ours, yes?” 

Ridiculously, Raihan felt the urge to cry. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said and dodged the hand that reached out to ruffle his hair as punishment for the impertinence. 

It was a beautiful fight. 

It was the first time in his life that Raihan realized he too could offer that kind of battle: elegant and well thought out. Half the time, his pokemon knew what to do without him having to tell them outright, a look or a gesture here, a smile and a nod there; it became almost a dance. And as he found himself meeting Delilah halfway, he was forced to appreciate his own skill in a way he’d never done before. Because he knew Delilah, he knew how strong she was and what it meant, that he could win. He’d beaten her before, in the Championship Cup, but this was different. This was him proving, to Hammerlocke and the world, that he deserved to inherit her post. 

And until that moment, Raihan realized he hadn’t really believed it himself. 

“I guess the little drake is not so little anymore,” Delilah said, grinning as duralodon fell behind her. 

Raihan laughed, all wet around the edges. 

* * *

Raihan got one glimpse of Leon, before their actual match during the Championship Cup. Just as they were heading for the Rose to check in, Leon was being escorted by a small army of League personnel, heading to Rose Stadium. As soon as Leon caught sight of Raihan, he’d waved excitedly and made to run at him, probably to say hi. But the closest person next to him reached out to grab his arm and leaned in to whisper something at him, tugging insistently to where they were going. Raihan saw Leon’s disappointed face and waved back at him, as if to make him feel better, before he was led away. 

“What?” Raihan asked, when he realized Piers was giving him a frankly judgmental look. 

“Nothin’,” he replied, and then shrugged. “Now come along, Mr. _Tamer of Dragons_ , I’m starving.” 

Raihan felt his face heat up at the nickname he seemed to have acquired, after his battle in Hammerlocke. 

“Shut up,” he snarled, and started walking off without waiting for Piers, who, predictably and like the great git he was, _was laughing at him_. 

They got their room sorted out and had lunch in the nice terrace restaurant of the hotel, and Raihan found himself somewhat puzzled by the persistent lack of nerves. He kept expecting to feel them, as the clock ticked down, but they didn’t come. He slept nice and sound, dreaming nothing… or at least nothing worth remembering. Soon enough, he was walking out the stadium, into the screaming cheers, a good chunk of which were, he realized, aimed at him. He wasn’t unpopular, after all, this was his fourth year returning to the Championship Cup. But he’d never really _noticed_ the following he’d gathered, over the years, until then. And maybe it was because the battle with Delilah at Hammerlocke was being hyped up tremendously – he’d declined an interview about it, matter of fact, on Piers’ recommendation to avoid getting in the spotlight – or maybe he was noticing because the certainty that this was his last Gym Challenge was making him pay attention to everything, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that almost as many people seem to be rooting for him, as there were rooting for Leon. 

“The cape is new,” Raihan pointed out, as they stood side by side in the tunnel, once more granted a few minutes alone before the big event. 

In movies, this was the place where great rivals taunted one another, tried to upset them or trip them off their game. Some of Raihan’s favorite movies, in fact, were movies about great rivalries that had pitch tunnel scenes. But when he looked at Leon, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything really mean. Because he _didn’t_ want Leon to be off his game. He didn’t want Leon to be anything but at his best. Raihan looked down at his rival and wondered if he felt the same, watching him fidget with the edge of the cape. 

“It’s a bit silly,” Leon admitted, ducking his head slightly, “but it’s also kinda fun.” 

“It’s a pity you got it this year,” Raihan said, grinning, “considering it’s your last year as Champion, Lee.” 

Leon looked up at him and then burst out laughing. 

“It’s a good thing you’re better at battling than you’re at shit-talking, Rai,” he replied, and then laughed harder when Raihan spluttered. “Give me your best, o Grand Dragon Tamer.” 

“No one said _grand_ ,” he snorted, looking away. 

“I did,” Leon said, and reached out to grab Raihan’s hand, raising it up until he was clutching it in his own. “The Unbeatable Champion and his rival, the Grand Dragon Tamer. I like the sound of that.” 

Raihan snorted. 

“You would,” he said, shaking his head, “it implies you win.” 

Leon stared up at him, eyes bright, and tightened his hold on his hand. 

“Prove me wrong, then.” 

* * *

Delilah named him her heir and formally stepped down as Gym Leader of Hammerlocke two weeks after he lost to Leon in the Championship Cup. There was a battle and some speeches and a ton of paperwork to sign. Raihan had been expecting it, though, and he was prepared for it all. 

All of it, except for the bit where Delilah offered to trade her duralodon for his ferrothorn. 

“He should stay here, in Hammerlocke,” she said, holding the ultraball in her hand, “and I know you’ve been worried about the old girl.” 

It was true that ferrothorn was showing signs of age, and while it hadn’t impacted her performance in the field yet, Raihan had stopped putting her out into fights unless he absolutely had to. He had, after all, caught her fully evolved, and it was hard to say how old she really was. But still. He had to ask her, first. Make sure she knew he cared what she thought, that he wasn’t… that he wouldn’t just _abandon_ her. Raihan sent her out and did his best to explain without stumbling on his own tongue. 

Ferrothorn studied Delilah for a moment, and then plopped down by her feet, as if she wanted to sleep. 

“I guess,” Raihan said, swallowing hard around the knot of tears stuck in his throat, “I guess that means yes.” 

“Gym Leaders don’t cry, little drake,” Delilah said, hands on his shoulders as she tugged him close, “but you’re not a Gym Leader yet.” 

* * *

The first two months as Gym Leader of Hammerlocke were rough. 

Work at the Gym was hard, but also nothing he didn’t know how to do. He’d spent years learning how everything worked by doing it himself, and that let him know exactly how to fix things that needed fixing. And most of his Gym Trainers and the rest of the employees at the Gym respected Delilah enough to accept him as her replacement without much hesitation. It was the only thing Raihan did not allow himself to mess up. Everything else was a nightmare mess, admittedly, but no one could find fault with his handling of his responsibilities as Gym Leader: the Lake of Outrage nests were monitored and secured, the rescue efforts were carried out diligently and consistently, the power plant was functioning as expected, the Vault was perfectly secured and the training programs at the Gym were being carried out on schedule. 

It was just his life itself that was a mess. 

He didn’t have to move out, Mrs. Fairweather told him so repeatedly. But Raihan saw reporter crews hunting him down outside the Stadium and felt a surge of viciousness at the idea of any of them harassing his family in any way. It would be bad press, if he got into a fight with them, and they weren’t going to stop any time soon, either, so the sensible thing was to move out. Mrs. Fairweather helped him sell his mom’s house – he tried moving in, at first, but he couldn’t last a single night – and then helped him find something that fit both his budget and his needs. It was surprisingly uncomplicated, actually. A lot of people stopped asking questions about his age when they found out he was Gym Leader, and by this point, _everyone in Galar_ knew he was Gym Leader of Hammerlocke. 

It was a nice house, if a little empty, but he reckoned he could fill it up, bit by bit. 

It was just… lonely. There was no one to talk with, in the house, beyond his pokemon. And Raihan talked a lot, to his pokemon, but none of them could exactly talk back. He kept visiting Spikemuth, partly because he was desperately lonely, but also because at least he didn’t have to worry about someone shoving a microphone up his face and trying to get a soundbite they could take out of context to keep the flame of the scandal going, in Spikemuth. 

“You’re trying to be Delilah,” Lydia told him, on one such visit, arching an eyebrow up at him, “you’ve got an extra foot in height and the wrong hair color for that, kid.” 

“Delilah was an excellent Gym Leader,” Raihan muttered defensively, hunching over because even if she insisted they had to be on first name basis now, as colleges, she was never going to stop being Piers’ _terrifying_ Ma to part of him. 

“Sure,” she agreed easily, one eyebrow arched, “but she chose you, to replace her. So _you_ have to be an excellent Gym Leader too, not just a watered-down version of whatever the hell you think made Delilah good at her job.” 

“People are pissed enough as is, Lydia,” Raihan couldn’t help but deadpan, wincing as she laughed that familiar mightyena cackle of hers. 

“Exactly!” She said, and patted him so hard on the back it nearly toppled him off his feet. “They’re gonna hate whatever you do anyway, you might as well have fun with it.” She snorted. “Besides, they’ll get over it eventually, so you might as well take advantage.” She grinned, teeth bared. “You are _literally_ the strongest Gym Leader in Galar, and you are also the handpicked rival to our undefeatable brat of a Champion. You can be _whatever you want_ , Raihan. Once they’re done bitching about tradition, they’re going to eat it up with a spoon.” 

Raihan stared at her for a long moment and then looked away with a frown. 

“I’d… I’d been thinking,” he admitted, embarrassed, “about changing the gimmick of the Gym.” 

“No better time than now,” she retorted, head tilted slightly sideways in the same bird-like way Piers did, sometimes. “What do you have in mind?” 

Raihan shrugged. 

“Well, there’s… a lot of conflicting sources, but there’s a big current in the League history community that insists Galar is the birthplace of doubles and multi battles, in general.” He scratched the side of his face. “You know… on account of the whole Darkest Day and raid battles.” 

“Legends are finicky things,” Lydia said, “at some point, no one knows for certain what’s the truth.” 

“True,” Raihan nodded, “but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to honor our past. Our traditions. I just… Hammerlocke is meant to guard Galar’s history, it seems fitting to rescue a part that has been consistently lost, in our gimmick as well.” 

“Double and multi battles are not part of the League’s standard rulebook, though,” she pointed out, one eyebrow arched. “Have you thought of that?” 

“Well, they’re not _forbidden_ either,” Raihan smiled, tentatively, and betrayed the fact he had, in fact, been thinking about this for a while. “I’m supposed to be the last hurdle, before the Championship Cup, right? What better way to test if trainers are really prepared to face that challenge, than testing their ability to really utilize their pokemon effectively. And, you know, it might popularize the format again, help breathe a bit of life back into that part of our history before it becomes another forgotten legend.” He lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret. “The best battles I’ve ever watched were all doubles, honestly.” 

“Well,” Lydia laughed, “the quarterly meeting with the Chairman is next month, I can’t think of a better time to bring it up.” 

Raihan swallowed hard. 

“But what if he says no?” 

She laughed harder, throwing her head back and making her hair shake everywhere as she did. 

“Oh, kid, no,” she said, “you’re not _asking_ him, you’re telling him outright this is a thing you’re doing.” She grinned. “If he doesn’t like it, he can fucking deal.” 

“But-“ 

“It’s _your_ Gym now, Raihan,” she reminded him, blue eyes sharp, “no one gets to tell you what to do with it.” 

* * *

Raihan announced the change of gimmick for Hammerlocke, three days after his meeting with Chairman Rose, in his first public press release since taking over the Gym. 

The internet, predictably, lost its mind. 

He was ready for that, though. He was ready to fight fire with fire… or in this case, pictures of baby dragons. He looked at the whole social media situation like a battle of sorts, in a way. He opened an account to concentrate the influx of bad faith commentary and negativity, and then consistently rebuked it with PR approved posts about what a great job Hammerlocke was doing, in the various workstreams they were handling, such as pokemon training, pokemon rescue, power production and general educational services. And also, a whole lot of pictures of people enjoying themselves tremendously in Hammerlocke Stadium, participating in those workstreams. 

And when everything else failed, he posted pictures of baby dragons being cute and adorable. 

He kept his face off his social media, to avoid reminding people that they were all pissed at him for not being Delilah, and instead waged war on the fact Hammerlocke was doing great under his care. Because it was. It really was. His engagement metrics were through the roof, because it turned out that any attention was good attention, as far as the League went. He was well under budget for all the programs they were running. And over all, just as Lydia had promised, his reputation was starting to knit itself back together. He _was_ the strongest Gym Leader in Galar, at least according to statistics, though he was sure to prove that in the next Championship Cup. And he was the only acknowledged rival that their undefeated Champion would talk about – Leon talked about him often, it turned out, proudly and with great enthusiasm, to anyone who stood still long enough. It was a bit embarrassing, but it definitely helped turned the tide of all the hate. 

By the time he left for Kanto and the Annual Dragon Conference, once more hosted by Lance, Raihan could see the end of the tunnel in the distance. 

“Are you sure?” Raihan asked, when, before he stepped up to fight Drasna, roggenrola suddenly shook itself hard and popped the everstone out of his ear and then nudged it at Raihan with a foot. “I don’t… I’m okay with you being who you are. You don’t have—” He stared as roggenrola began to glow, evolving almost on command. His now boldore looked up at him, raising one pincer-like limb at him. Raihan smiled, crouching down to shake it solemnly. “Gotta try our best, huh.” 

By the time he returned, he had a gigalith. 

On the way home, he finally stopped by the hardware store that he passed by every day, and bought a roll of the dragon themed window decals he’d seen announced on their street display ever since he’d moved into the new house. It was childish and impulsive and stupid, probably, but it made him happy. 

And that, he supposed, was enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/notavodkashot), if you'd like.


End file.
